Immortal
by TheRealRogue
Summary: This fic is about Diego and an OC named Josefina. I first wrote and published this in Spanish and now I'm translating it into English.
1. Chapter 1: The shop

Note: hi everyone! This little fanfic is based in the Zorro series from 1957, with Guy Williams. For the last 2 or 3 months I've been watching it nonstop, I actually finished it and started over again, and of course my mind started to get its own ideas. I first wrote it and published it in Spanish, so now I'm going to start translating it and publishing it in English. Now, I watch the series in Latin American Spanish, so I'm not 100% sure on how they slide words in Spanish here and there in the original version of the series (like "Good morning, señores", for example, that kind of stuff). So I'll do my best. The main girl in this is an OC, but pretty much the rest of the people are Zorro characters from that series, which of course doesn't belong to me (just saying!) So, thanks for being here and I hope you enjoy reading this! (I also hope I enjoy translating it, wish me luck).

Chapter I

The shop

On Wednesday April 3rd 1816 at 11:26 in the morning, Josefina Iglesias saw Diego de la Vega for the first time. That is: she saw him, heard his warm voice and fell in love, all at once and without previous notice.

What he said was:

"Good morning, señorita."

Even today, so many years later, she can infinitely rewind those three words in her mind, pronounced letter by letter by that voice:

_Good morning, señorita. _

_ Good morning, señorita. _

No one used to call her señorita; just girl, moza or muchacha. But he did.

"Good morning, señorita. Is don Pedro here?"

The swipe of the broom got interrupted midair, when Josefina looked up at the face that was smiling at her from up and above a horse, about a hundred thousand meters high and away.

"¿Señorita?"

"¿Don Pedro?"

"Precisely, I'm looking for him. Is he in the shop?"

"Yes."

As soon as she dropped the broom and hurried to go and find her uncle, she started to hate herself. She should have said something else, something like "_but of course, señor, please allow me one moment and I'll get don Pedro for you, I'll be right back, but I beg you, come on in and take a seat, it's too hot outside_". But it was like something inside of her had panicked at the sight of such apparition, and she could do nothing else but run away like a little frightened kid. All right, she was practically a kid back then, she could reckon nowadays, so she had forgiven herself for her astonishment long time ago.

"Don Diego! You honor my shop with your visit."

_Don Diego. _

_ Diego. _

"It's nothing but my pleasure, don Pedro."

"Your order is almost ready. This way, please."

And then, sweeping and sweeping once more the same clean spot on the floor, holding onto that broom with frozen hands, Josefina learnt that don Diego's father, don Alejandro, was in good health; that his order consisted in a pair of boots made of the best Argentinean leather; and that this don Diego had no reservations in helping her elderly uncle to pick up several coins that got scattered on the floor.

"So long, señorita."

"Good bye, señor" she was able to say, after rehearsing it in her mind several times beforehand.

And so, he got back on his horse and went away, trotting down the market's streets, leaving Josefina burning up in fever for what was left of the day.

(…)

The wealthy ones would sit at the front. Josefina, uncle Pedro and aunt Caridad were in the back along with the rest of merchants, workmen and servers. It hadn't always been this way. She, too, would take a seat in the front when she was a little girl, right besides a massive baptismal font made of marble, though in another church, in another place and long time ago.

They'd been lucky enough to find a place on a bench that day. And from there, her eyes traveled through the ocean of heads, veils and ornamental combs, and reached the profile of a nose or half a mustache; an ear, or the top of a shoulder in a sky blue jacket.

It was him. Don Diego. Josefina and don Diego. It had a ring to it. Would she use a _doña_ or _señora_? Would it be Josefina de de la Vega, two _de's_? And as the priest preached about all of the different ways to avoid ugly scorching hell, Josefina would see herself holding on to don Diego, as he led the horse with gallantry and she was pushed against him as close as possible. Would she go to hell for these thoughts?

On Sundays, she'd submerge in daydreams about weddings and horse rides. On Thursdays, she'd burn up from head to toe with that _good morning, señorita_, always on the dot at 11:30, and _so long, señorita_, always with that sincere smirk that made her soul burst into a thousand pieces. Then one morning, it was more than that:

"It's a splendid day today, don't you think?"

Her aunt was taking a little too long in the back of the store. Josefina was dusting the shelves and was _this_ close to screaming in both joy and fear, when she realized he was talking to her.

"Yes." Her grin came out like that one of a sloppy or crooked wax doll: "Splendid. Day."

He smiled, now widely. Was he laughing at her? Had he noticed-

"Aha! I knew it was somewhere around here." Aunt Caridad had just returned with a belt for don Alejandro.

No, he wouldn't laugh at her. He was too kind for that, too much of a gentleman.

"Son long, señorita."

"Good bye, señor."

Her ears were still enjoying the last trotting of the horse they could perceive, when aunt Caridad spoke:

"He's very handsome, isn't he? De la Vega."

"You think?"

"Ha! I may be old but I'm not dumb or blind. I can see the way you look at him and how you tremble like a chicken when he's around."

"Auntie! God, you're imagining things."

"Hm. The one who has to quit on imagining things is you, Josefina. De la Vega is probably the richest family in Los Angeles, even California. It's for your own good, I wouldn't want to see you suffer because of something impossible. Are we clear?"

"Of course we are clear. You have nothing to worry about."

Not a thing of what her aunt said was any news to her; she knew it all too well. But even so, how could she get rid of the whirlwind inside, that turned her to nothing when he was around? How not to try to find him among the people during mass, and walk away all defeated afterwards, when she'd see him next to one or two fancy _señoritas _who were most likely dying for him as well? How not to yearn for Thursdays and Sundays to arrive? How not to…?

(…)

That Thursday in the early morning, she tip toed to the other room and to her aunt's timeworn dresser, with the sole purpose of stealing a wiping of the only, dry and old lip balm she owned. Back in her bed, with a chunk of mirror and a rectangle of moonlight that still came in through the window, she turned her lips redder and her cheeks more blushed. Just a bit, enough so her uncle wouldn't notice it with his bad sight.

Aunt Caridad left early to go and run some errands, so it was now only a matter of waiting. Sweeping here, dusting there, organizing knick-knacks all over the place. It was 11 already, and with each passing minute, the palms of her hands turned to water. What if he told her she looked pretty today? She had already practiced a "_that's very kind of you, señor" _that would probably stay stuck in her throat.

11:30 already, in the old wooden clock. She could almost hear the familiar trot and could almost see him, getting off the horse in one stride, tall and perfect, with his usual _good morning, señorita._

But time slid down a dark slope, to then go and fall into a black hole. Twelve. Twelve thirty. One. Two in the afternoon. Lunchtime. And nothing.

That day's meal tasted like wet hay seasoned with splinters and leather.

After several days of anguish beyond compare, don Alejandro de la Vega showed up at the shop.

And all the while polishing a paperweight that that could not for the love of God provide any more shine, Josefina learnt that don Diego, (_her_ don Diego!), had recently left to Spain to study at the university for several years.

There was a buzzing inside her ears and the floor zoomed out. She saw herself floating or, instead, attempting to float in a lake of tar. There was no ground. No air. No more don Diego and his smile. Let alone any _good morning, señorita_.

And that's how things were then: 15 stupid years old and in love to the bones with a 21 or 22 year old man, who was unreachable in every way possible. A kid's nonsense, aunt Caridad would say. But the pain, that one was real.

(…)

Note: I know that the topic of a poor girl who falls in love with a rich man is older than humanity itself. For a while, I thought about writing a story with a female protagonist such as Anna María, who was a high society girl, but that wasn't the story I wanted to tell. I wanted to kind of portray my own, ahem, admiration, towards don Diego and Guy Williams. Ok then! What do you think? Please don't leave without dropping me a review and thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2: The tavern

Chapter II

The tavern

Three different things can happen to a feeling in four years, two months and eighteen days: it can slowly fade away, because _time heals all wounds_ and _you have to let time take its course_, plus other phrases with the word _time_ in them, that aunt Caridad was a fan of. It can become an obsession, a fixation that rules all aspects of life and tries to find hope in any ghost or shadow. Or it can mutate from emotion to memory, making peace with it. The latter happened to Josefina. Sure, there was a lot of crying on her pillow, a lot of entire afternoons reading the most tragic poems ever written, all of them dedicated to him in her mind. But pain began to weaken, tears slowly stopped showing up, poems started to seem pretty boring and sadness gave way to acceptance. According to some knightly novel she read at some point, it's better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all. Well then, she had loved for real, and that was a part of her now. It proved she was alive. And why not?, giving a thought to don Diego de la Vega's honest and gentle smile every once in a while, would always make her smile as well.

There was something else too. After aunt Caridad's passing and uncle Pedro's illness, the shop hadn't been able to stay afloat, and not for the first time in her life, Josefina found herself (almost) alone and (virtually) broke, so she had to find another job. Uncle Pedro didn't like it very much, but truth be told, it was the only thing that was supporting them both at that point.

"Josefina! Table three, more wine."

"Right away!" Last year's harvest: she stretched out her arm to reach out for one of the bottles lined up on the shelf. "Excuse me, gentlemen."

"Go ahead, bonita."

Red liquid was starting to fill the first cup, when this voice like a bell resounded behind her back:

"Don Diego de la Vega! Welcome back!"

At the sound of that name and that last name, with all of their vowels and consonants, she felt as if someone had all of a sudden been able to uncover every ridiculous thought and absurd idea she'd ever had about him, and exposed them in the town's square for everyone to watch and mock.

She was pouring the second cup, when other people joined in the greetings:

"How long has it been, amigo?"

"Welcome home!"

The soldiers she was serving were telling jokes and laughing. The third cup was almost full. Then, she heard him:

"Thanks a lot, gentlemen! It's good to be back home and more so, in such excellent company."

No problem. Nothing out of the ordinary. It was just a matter of getting a better wine, one from 1813 perhaps, which the recently arrived party would surely appreciate. It'd be nice to see don Diego again, interesting, even funny to think that because of him, she had filled not few sheets of paper with poems that she couldn't get to rhyme.

"Josefina! Our best wine for-"

"Table one!" she finished don Theo's sentence.

He wouldn't remember her, that was for sure, and that was actually a relieve; if aunt Caridad had noticed her pathological nervousness when he was around, back then at the shop, maybe he had noticed it too. So it was better off this way: two strangers in a tavern, each of them on opposite banks of the river.

"Good evening, gentlemen. Our best wine."

"And it couldn't be any less for the prodigal son!"

Josefina couldn't help a courtesy smile, mostly out of habit. She poured one, two, three, four cups of wine.

And at last, she dared to look at him in the face:

"Thank you, señorita."

A hole in time and space opened up, pulled her in and dropped her right at the entrance of her uncle's shop, broom in hand, completely mesmerized as she stared at prince charming on his horse reciting a _good morning, señorita_, phrase coined in this world solely for her.

It was him, dear Lord, and she'd be damned if he wasn't even more handsome. Wiser, more grown up, someone who knows well what to do in each situation and how to solve any problem. More… would she there to think about it, to put words to it?: less of a young guy and more of a man. He was wearing a navy blue suit and that same look in his eye: intelligent and perceptive.

"My pleasure."

She managed to pull herself together. She was sure she hadn't _shaken like a chicken_, like her aunt suggested back then. That's on the outside. On the inside, the invisible stuff behind the eyes, a struggle was starting to surge between two still fuzzy sides.

The rest of the tavern began to spin around that still point that was don Diego de la Vega. As she served wine here and there, Josefina could perceive some fragments of conversation:

"Hombre, tell us about our motherland, Spain. I haven't been there in years."

"Well, as you probably know, Spain is a magnificent place to learn History and Literature. The peoples are generous and-"

"The señoritas are especially generous, eh? I bet you left behind more than one broken heart."

"The peoples are very generous and kind, don Antonio."

_At least he didn't come back with a wife. _

_ Why do you care? What does it have to do with you? _

_ Realistically, nothing, but I'm glad to know. _

_ You've just said it, that's the key word: realistic. You have to be realistic_.

Both sides gained shape and started their war inside Josefina's head.

"…military university? Fencing, combat techniques?"

"Truth be told, those subjects didn't interest me very much. That's partly why I came back to California. I prefer a good reading and…"

"Josefina! Table five."

_I like reading too, we have something in common._

_ I hope you like to serve wine and wash pots and pans. Table five, and make it snappy. _

(…)

Sometimes he'd go to the tavern with Sergeant García, who wouldn't have been able to taste a single drop of wine if it hadn't been for don Diego paying the check: the soldier's credit had run out months ago. Some other times, he'd show up with his servant, a deaf-mute guy who'd smile at everything and everyone. Also, with his father or a friend. And oftentimes, alone. From the bar area, Josefina would see him walk in the joint, go straight to table one if it was free, then sit for a couple hours to read a book. And to watch, she could tell: people coming in and out, those who played poker or chess, those who drank and ate and talked. He always seemed to be listening to every sound, looking for something or someone, or waiting; and in those cases, he'd rarely order wine.

"Your tea, señor."

"Thank you, señorita."

"Hey, girl! More wine." The character at table two had already chugged down two bottles all by himself.

"Right away, señor."

Harvest from few months ago. At this point, he wouldn't even notice.

"How much?"

"The bottle is two pesos; if it's only a cup-"

"That's not what I meant."

He looked at her up and down. Ah, it was one of those. Guess being a waitress at the tavern implied having to deal with drunkards sometimes: it came with the job.

"We only sell wine and food here, señor."

"You're very pretty." She turned away to leave, only to be brusquely held by an arm: "Hey, I'm talking to you!"

"You better let go of me right now."

"Just gimme me a little kiss at least-"

"Señor! You heard the señorita. Remove your hands from her on this instant. And apologize."

Sweet Jesus, it was him. She'd never heard him talk like that, he was always so well-mannered, but this time he'd raised his voice and was visibly upset. Because of _her_? To help _her_?

"What you gonna do bout it? Hit me with your book?"

"Believe me, you don't want to find out."

The man let go of her and for a moment, he seemed willing and ready to get into a fight. But don Diego was pretty much a whole head taller than him, so he stepped back.

"You're not welcome here anymore, señor" Josefina stated: "Get out."

He hesitated yet again, as if trying to comprehend, over the haze of alcohol that clouded his senses, what exactly was happening to him.

"My apologies, your grace" he told her with a mocking reverence.

"And don't come back!" he heard her sai, as he stumbled towards the entrance.

At the neighboring tables, all of those who had witnessed the scene went back to mind their own businesses.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. And I really appreciate it, you shouldn't have."

"But of course I had to. Some need to be taught how to behave in front of a lady."

Finally, his stare softened, only to go and pierce right through her thinking, just as before. Just as always.

"Once again, thank you, señor."

She was almost already going to (try and) carry on with her chores, when he continued:

"How's your uncle?"

Her heart started to thump in her ears.

He remembered her.

"My uncle?"

"Don Pedro is your uncle, right? I heard he's had some health issues."

"Yes, well, he's been a bit better these days. He's been walking a little and now goes to eat at the table."

"I'm glad. Would you please give him my regards and best wishes?"

"Of course, thanks for asking."

He remembered her. He remembered her. He hadn't forgotten her face, not even because she was in a different place than before.

_He's only being polite. He probably went to get something at the shop, didn't find it, asked about it and someone told him about uncle Pedro._

_ That's uncle Pedro. This is _me_. He recognized _me_. What does he think of me?_

_ That you're just another member of the serving staff. _

_ He remembers me... he remembers me! He does, he does! I'm not just a random girl. _

_ You are._

_ I'm not!_

"Josefina! Do me a favor and glue this sign to the door."

"Yes, don Theo."

She didn't even pay the slightest attention to the contents of the poster: a reward was being offered for the capture of a certain outlaw nicknamed Zorro people were talking about a lot as of lately.

One of her mind's sides was quiet for the moment. The other one was still in awe about what'd just happened that afternoon:

_You heard the señorita. Remove your hands from her. And apologize_.

He remembered her.

_Are you all right?_

He remembered her.

_Don Pedro is your uncle, right?_

After more than four years, he remembered her.

She could hardly catch any sleep that night.

(…)

Note: for this chapter, I got inspiration from a Zorro episode in which a guy named Rodolfo stands up for a waitress at the tavern in a similar situation. Thanks for reading and please drop me a review!


	3. Chapter 3: The storeroom

Chapter III

The storeroom

She gave her hand to him. He held it gently and looking at her in the eye, he placed a kiss on her white knuckles:

"Señorita. Your servant."

"As gallant as always, Diego."

"I know you two will get along just fine once again" don Alejandro announced. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must greet some friends over there."

"How was your trip, Magdalena?"

"It was wonderful, we arrived yesterday evening and…"

Josefina couldn't hear any more; she had to go to the kitchen to bring the rest of the appetizers that had yet to be served. Not like she felt very much like staying and keep listening anyway. Her excitement from the previous day had proved to be both ephemerons, unfounded and pretty much ridiculous, she could see it now. Standing up for her against that guy, Diego would have done it for any other woman on Earth; asking her about her uncle was just out of politeness. Surely, when finding out about his former seller and repairer of leather articles, someone told him the niece now worked at the tavern, he put two and two together and knew that the girl who used to sweep that dark corner of the shop, was the same that now would serve him wine or tea.

_ I don't know why you're surprised. Now, keep it together. _

The other voice said nothing. It was dead silent at how beautiful that Magdalena girl was, at the way she and Diego looked at each other, how much they talked and laughed, how close they were at all times. And even more so when it was time to dance. As she distributed canapés, Josefina glanced at them with the corner of her eye, like some sort of medieval self-torture method: reverences, clapping, twists and turns, holding their hands, the pretty and rich black mantilla that followed her and twirled along with her.

_I hope things are clear for you now._

_ Crystal clear. _

There was no hope.

(…)

A whole week went by until she saw him at the tavern again. He was wearing a tanned suit and tie and a beige shirt. She had to gather her courage to go and serve him wine.

"Good afternoon, señor."

"Good afternoon, señorita." Her eyes were glued to the glass as it filled, whenthe most unexpected thing happened: "May I ask if you gave your uncle my regards?"

Luckily, she was able to conceal her shock and answer as naturally as possible:

"I did. He sends his regards as well, to you and your father."

"Josefina! Dinner, table four."

"Right away! Excuse me, don Diego."

"Of course."

Josefina served the dinner she was asked to, brought more wine to tables two, three and seven, washed cups and cutlery, but if someone had asked her what she had just done, she wouldn't have been able to give a coherent answer. She did everything in a trance, her mind still absorbed by what had just transpired. On one hand, he talked to her, he asked something, anything, as if trying to continue the conversation from the other day. On the other, it felt like a bucket of cold water falling on her. Or boiling hot water, whatever would freeze her to the bones or scorch them. Why didn't she think of that? Why not adding something more to her reply? Something like _my uncle says hello to you and your father and he invites you to visit him whenever you please. _But the idea arrived way too late, and no, her uncle hadn't really invited anyone home, but sometimes he wasn't very aware of what he had or hadn't said.

_So you wanted to use your sick uncle. That's the last straw._

_ Not use him, just-_

_ And that other thing. _

_ What other thing?_

_ You called him by his name for the first time: don Diego. Now he knows you know his name._

_ Everyone knows everyone's name around here. _

_ Still. _

Sense and sensibility got all tangled up in this fight for the rest of the afternoon. Reasons came and went, and most likely, don Diego was just doing what he usually did, that is, being nice, all the while she was making up a huge story for each step or breath he took.

_Absurd. _

She was coming from the kitchen carrying a couple of plates for table five, when she heard it. First, the chords of a guitar; then, a voice:

_Tus ojos café me matan_

_cada vez que los veo,_

_me dicen cosas extrañas_

_y me ciegan de lejos. _

_Tus ojos café me atrapan_

_cuánto brillo y destello,_

_de tantos ojos que he visto_

_con los tuyos me quedo._

The audience, innkeeper included, was enjoying the music, nodding their heads to the rhythm. Josefina served dinner to the cozy looking couple, then headed to barricade herself behind the bar.

_Y al tratar de decirlo mejor,_

_en tu ausencia no hay nada,_

_un planeta sin agua,_

_una noche sin luna._

Those cups would be squeaky clean and perfectly dry, she'd make sure of it. Anything, to keep herself from looking in his direction, to keep her eyes from drifting towards him, towards his skilled hands that strummed the instrument, or his raised eyebrows, which resulted in those two or three thin lines on his forehead.

_Todo el aire que viste tu andar_

_engalana el espacio. _

_Yo te quiero despacio_

_y con toda mi vida._

He looked at her.

It was just a second or even less, the time it takes to bat an eye.

Everyone applauded.

"Thank you, ladies, gentlemen, but it's time for me to leave."

Don Theo came along to help with the flatware:

"Clients like that one help the business grow. That señor, the one who is with the señorita, is don Diego's friend. He asked him to help create a more romantic mood, you know, for the lady."

Maybe the King of Spain himself had asked Diego to play the guitar and sing that song. But not even the Queen of France rising from the dead could deny it: he did look at her.

(…)

She didn't have to light up a single one of the storeroom's lamps; the scarce moonlight that came in through the window was more than enough. Josefina knew well each aisle, row and shelf, and had learnt by heart where each object was supposed to be, since for don Theo, there was nothing more important than perfect order.

Here, small dishes (that song about brown eyes, was it about _her_ eyes?) Over there, clean napkins which had to be neatly folded (his interest for her uncle, was there actually a hint of interest towards her in it?) Then, the large bowls (was she seeing ghosts in thin air, which, in turn, came from a ghost that rose from the past to torment her?) The glasses-

There was a noise and something like a struggle. At this hour, there wasn't supposed to be another soul in the tavern or the kitchen, let alone the storeroom.

Steps. Whispers.

Josefina stuck her back against the wall, back there, between two shelves.

"If you appreciate your life, give me the document."

Silence.

The other one then spoke:

"If my boss finds out I don't have it, he'll kill me."

"That's why you have to leave town. I'm giving you that chance, go away and never come back, understood? I'll be watching you."

Steps fading away, towards the tavern area. But the other one had stayed, the one who made the death threat.

"Don't come any closer."

_If you're going to wield a pistol, you better be ready to use it._ Well versed in belts, holsters, bullets and guns, her uncle's words to a neighbor popped up in her mind all of a sudden. It was probably possible to apply that same logic to a chicken boning knife.

"I'm not going to hurt you, señorita."

With her fist clenched around the wooden handle, she dared to take a step forward and that's when she could get a better look at his tall frame, all wrapped up in a black outfit, staring at her behind a mask.

"You're Zorro."

"So they say. And you are Josefina."

"How do you-"

Voices and noise, back there in the tavern.

"If it's all right with you, I'd like to continue this conversation some other time."

He didn't wait for her to put the knife away. He just came closer to her and therefore, to the window, with cautious steps, as if each of them should trust the other.

And she'd heard a lot about this alleged outlaw, of course; she knew that had he wanted to snatch the knife from her, he'd have easily been able to do it. Instead, he just took a leap, landed on the window's frame and with:

"So long, señorita" he disappeared in the night's shadows.

Josefina got rid of the knife right before a bunch of soldiers stormed in through the door:

"Is everything all right, señorita?"

"Well of course, why do you ask? Actually, you scared me."

"Have you seen that delinquent that calls himself Zorro? Was he around here?"

"Zorro, here? No, I haven't seen anyone."

"Are you sure?"

"Are you calling me a liar?"

"No, of course not, I'm so sorry."

She blurted out all of this without thinking, guided by a gut feeling.

Fifteen minutes later and she had already reached her home's doorstep. Uncle Pedro was probably deep asleep, everything was calm and quiet.

And in the middle of her dark room, three words fluttered behind her forehead, vibrated in her ears, echoed against the walls and the ceiling:

_So long, señorita. _

That voice.

It wasn't possible.

Or was it?

(…)

Note: The "Sense and sensibility" I make reference to, about the struggle inside her mind, I took that phrase of course from Jane Austen's book. About Josefina and the knife, I took it from something similar Anna María does in the series. About the guy Zorro was chasing and the document, it's not really too important; Zorro's endeavors will be seen mostly tangentially in this story.

Also guys, this is the translation for the song, written by a singer named Ilan Chester (the song is from like the 1980's, but I liked it for the story. I tried to find a song that I could really feel, for the English version, but I couldn't. Also, in the original song it's green eyes):

_ Your brown eyes kill me_

_ whenever I see them,_

_ they tell me strange things_

_ and they blind me from afar._

_ Your brown eyes capture me,_

_ so much shine and sparkle,_

_ out of so many eyes I've seen_

_ I'm staying with yours._

_ And when I try to explain myself better,_

_ there's nothing in your absence:_

_ a planet with no water,_

_ a night with no moon. _

_ All of the air that wraps your walking_

_ embellishes the space, _

_ I love you slowly_

_ and with all of my life._

Thanks for reading and reviewing! (*wink*)


	4. Chapter 4: The library

Chapter IV

The library

Her music teacher used to say she had a really good ear. That is, when she _had _a music teacher, long time ago. _La señorita _Clara had taught her to tell apart _Do_ from _Re_, _Mi_ from _Fa _and _Sol_ from _Sol_ _bemol_. She still got it, she liked to think, or maybe it was a natural skill. Either way, the result was the same: what she heard several nights ago was way too familiar, even though he tried to disguise his voice, to make it a tad deeper. And if there was somebody in this world who could brag about knowing _that _voice, who had captured it to repeat it inside her imagination over and over again; who studied each word (and those three words, above all!) until they were pretty much worn out and out of meaning, and became an almost tangible evocation of his presence; who else could recognize the tone, the nuance, the accent, the inflections, the sharps and flats of any _so long, señorita_ he'd pronounce.

Or she was starting to lose her mind and was seeing and hearing him everywhere.

_I'm inclined to believe the second hypothesis. _

_ Shut up. I need to clear my head. _

"_Padre _Felipe says please come to the library, he'll be there in a minute."

"Thanks, Pepe."

Josefina walked across the Mission's patio, a rustic fountain in the center of it, with some orange fish and several turtles drying up in the sun. She hadn't visited in weeks, maybe even months, but everything was just as she'd left it, coated in a centuries old layer of dust.

The library wasn't very big and yet one of its walls displayed books from top to bottom and left to right. They had dull or peeled off spines, letters or numbers that had been gold at some point, brittle pages pouring out. Bigger books, smaller books, and Josefina would run her eyes over each of them, trying to find one that would suit her. No romance, please, she'd already plagued her own brain with that. Maybe a little bit of adventure or, why not?, tragicomic misfortune. She'd been meaning to read it for a while, ever since she saw it around here, among those Bibles in several languages or the tomes on Philosophy or Theology.

"There you are…"

The volume's cover was ochre or maybe crimson, you couldn't really tell at this point.

She dragged a footstool closer and jumped on it, then stretched out, stood on tiptoes, and stretched out a bit more…

Almost, but no. She'd need something to reach it with or…

Everything was quiet; the priest wasn't coming just yet. It was only a matter of stepping her right foot on the bookcase's wooden shelf, only for a second, then reach out as high as she could and-

"May I help?"

The unexpected question, plus the height, _and_ getting caught climbing up there like a monkey, made her lose balance and she couldn't decide where to steady hands or feet anymore. The book, which she had just grasped, went flying, and she almost plummeted to the floor along with it. Almost, because someone held her just in time.

"_Señorita!_ Taking such risks for _El Quijote_ is justified, but I wouldn't want you to get hurt because of me."

Josefina could have sworn her heart was all of a sudden beating like a drum in the entirety of the Mission. Maybe it was such a rush of adrenaline what made her blurt out the first thing that came to mind:

"Where did you come from?!"

"Recently, that armchair."

Many times had she imagined herself holding on to him while riding a horse, true. But she never thought anything remotely similar could actually happen: to lean on him, to feel the fabric of his jacket, his hand still placed halfway down her back and her waist.

They better break it up, before the father shows up and thinks-

"Oh, yeah? So you were spying all this time instead of helping out?"

"I was sure you'd find the way to reach it." He picked up the book from the floor and handed it to her: "And see, I was right."

"And why were you so sure?"

"Just a hunch." From up close, his eyes were more in-between hazel and coffee: "And I'm sorry I startled you. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"

"Well you could scare away the annoying drunkos from the tavern… no, you already did that." He smiled at her with those white teeth: "No, it's alright, no worries."

"I insist. I couldn't help but notice that's_ El Quijote's _second part. Have you read the first one already?"

"Not really, but this is the only one the father has, I think."

"Well then, I'd like to lend you the first part."

"Do you have it?" A stupid question with an obvious answer, but it was the only thing her brain put together.

"I do. Is it okay if I bring it to the tavern tomorrow?"

"Sure. And then, maybe I'll forgive you."

"I'll be on tenterhooks."

She'd had no time to rehearse what she'd say, and it wasn't necessary. Against her expectations and contrary to the panic attacks she'd experience any time she'd see him, back then at the shop and now at the tavern, for the first time there was no context defining them. She wasn't the sweeper or the waitress who had just to do her job, and he wasn't the _don_ or _señor_ who wasn't expected to have much to talk about with the help. There was nothing and no one around, or maybe there were only the important things: books, thoughts, ideas, stories. Right the second she realized it was him holding her, something like a lightning crossed her from skull to ankles, an euphoria that allowed her to simply _be_. To look at him in the eye, to smile whenever she felt like it, to joke around as equals.

_Padre_ Felipe arrived, carrying some manuscripts he wanted to analyze with Diego (from now on, at least in her mind, she'd call him Diego and not don Diego), so she thanked the priest for lending her the book and excused herself.

"Good bye, _padre._ Don Diego."

All right, there was one thing that made her recently acquired confidence weaken; good thing she was about to leave already: Diego approached, took her hand (which was used to do the dishes) in his hand (which was used to the horses' reins) and placed a kiss on its back, always looking at her eyes.

"So long, _señorita_."

Josefina turned around and left, blushing and pale, her hands paralyzed and shaking.

(…)

If someone had entered her bedroom that night, they'd have found her with the back of her hand glued to her face.

_This is where his lips were, on these knuckles. _

_ It's just a courtesy thing out of politeness. _

_ Also, my hand was in his hand…_

_ He's a gentleman. That was just a… gentleman's way to say goodbye. _

_ I know, right? He's such a gentleman, I love that. _

_ So do I. I shouldn't but… so do I_.

The possibility of him being Zorro was secondary now. Most likely, her mind had just played a trick on her, making her hear Diego's voice in the least expected person. What really mattered is that she existed for him, that he held her when she fell, that he wanted to lend her a book.

All of this excitement kept spinning inside her head, as she started her shift at the tavern the following day. Every time she'd hear the door open, her stomach jolted (_he won't come, he'll come, he won't come, he'll come, he's got better things to do, he promised, technically he didn't promise, he'll come_), but it wasn't until it was almost time to close, when there were only a couple of customers left and Josefina was clearing their table, when she heard that voice behind her back:

"Good evening, _señorita_."

He _did_ come. Jesus Christ.

"Good evening, don Diego." He'd taken a seat at his usual spot: "Would you like some wine or tea?"

"Tea would be good, but that's not what I'm here for."

"Then why _are_ you here?" As she cleaned the table with a cloth, she tried hard not to look at him in the eye: she knew that if she did, she'd start smiling way too much.

"Well I like to keep my word and yesterday I promised (_he promised!) _I'd bring a book to a certain _señorita._"

_Padre_ Felipe's beat up volumes would have been jealous of this one, bound in black leather and with shiny letters carved on the cover that looked like actual gold.

The table was cleaner than clean already.

"Oh, what _señorita_ would that be?"

"It's a _señorita_ I've known for a while: brown hair, beautiful brown eyes, she has a tendency to climb bookshelves, too. Maybe you've seen her around here?"

Her face probably got even redder. It didn't matter.

"Climb bookshelves? No, it doesn't ring a bell. But if I ever come across her, I'll give it to her from you."

"Thank you very much."

"Thank _you_."

The last clients left (Josefina didn't hear them talk about two bandits Zorro had delivered to the authorities that very afternoon). Now, it was only the two of them.

He stood up:

"Josefina, I'd like to beg you to take a seat, please. It doesn't seem right that you're standing there while I'm sitting here, don't you think?"

"But you're a customer here and I'm-"

"Isn't it closing time?"

"Well yes but-"

"All right, the both of us can just stay standing here" he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Fine, just for a little while".

_And also so my knees don't wobble at having you right here in front of me as I die_.

"So. Am I forgiven?"

So… this is what it felt like. Even if she'd been dazzled by him all this time, in spite of a several years break; even if she liked _him_, his voice, the way he talked, how confident he was without being arrogant or egocentric, his face, his posture, the way he moved, every darn thing… she'd never put a name to that feeling. But it was just _this_. Sitting at the table with him, who looked at her with interest and expectation… that's when the word fell from the ceiling and hit her right on the head: she was in love with him and there was no turning back.

"That depends."

"On?"

"On Cervantes."

"In that case-"

"Josefina!" She jumped right on her feet to see a not very amused don Theo who'd just entered the room: "You know tables are only for customers, don't you?"

"Yes, don Theo, I'm sorry, it's-"

"Don Theo, it's my fault." As… uncommon as the situation could be, she felt herself floating a bit up in the air, at seeing him come to her rescue. Again. "I was asking Josefina about the house wines and I begged her to take a seat, I apologize if that was badly timed."

"The house wines, eh?"

Diego then proceeded to explain in all detail how he would soon throw out a reception for a second cousin who was coming to town and was an authority in wine and rum. For such an event, what better place than the tavern, but first, he wanted to do his research about the cellars' availability and the harvests' quality. Behind the bar, Josefina followed the conversation, rinsing and drying dishes, almost convinced that the party was real, given don Diego's… given Diego's eloquence, she corrected herself, smiling on the inside. Then, as don Theo presented bottle of wine after bottle of wine, so his client could take a look at them against the light, she went to swipe and wash up the floor. She felt a bit ashamed of herself when remembering that before, five years ago, she'd precisely been embarrassed of being nothing for him but a girl who cleaned around, a servant, someone who'd never have the remote chance of being a _señorita_ who could even seat at the same table with him. Not anymore. He'd talked to her, he'd lent her a book, damn it, he'd kissed her hand! Paying no mind to all of that. Why would she, then?

"Was all of that true?" she asked in a low voice already knowing the answer, after don Theo went out to receive some merchandise that'd just arrived.

"No. And this wine isn't from 1789 either." It was so easy to laugh with him. "I'm sorry if I put you in an uneasy situation. Again."

"Don't be. I sat by my own free will."

"I'd better leave." He was about to, but then made up his mind: "I wouldn't want to give you trouble at work. Are you going to the Mission again next Wednesday?"

"Yes." The syllable came out of her lips without her being too aware of what she was saying.

"Would it be alright if we continue talking about Cervantes that day? Same time than yesterday?"

"Yes."

"Good." He took her hand once again, this time it was damp with soapy water; a kiss, looking at her in the eye. (He'd be the death of her if he kept doing that.) "Good night, _señorita_."

"Good night."

She saw him head to the door and walk out. Funny, she was still hanging on to the broom with her other hand.

(…)

Note: hi guys! The fountain at the mission, with the fish and turtles, I took it from a museum in my city, that used to be a monastery. Thanks for reading and please drop me a review! Thanks again :-)


	5. Chapter 5: The Mission

Chapter V

The Mission

"Let's see if I get this straight, son". Padre Felipe took off his fragile eyeglasses and placed them on the desk, which was packed with papers and books: "You're asking my permission to meet Josefina here at _la_ Mission. Is that correct?"

Diego nodded: "Precisely."

"Uhum. And with what purpose? And please don't try to tell me you two want to discuss literature, I'm too old to be taken for a fool."

"Believe me, I wouldn't try to lie to you, not after you took my confession at 10 years old, about stealing candy from the kitchen or about what really happened with that porcelain vase in the living room."

"Ah, with Alejandro's temper, even _I_ would have lied."

It was a hot day. The noon sun came in through the picture window and washed over the wooden globe, which had several chipped off names and countries.

"Father" said Diego, now with a serious expression: "There are many _señoritas_ I've had the fortune of meeting, sometimes at my father's request and all of them lovely, that's for sure. But Josefina is… different. There's something about her that I don't want to just let go."

"I see. However, I'm sure_ that_ could be frowned upon by some people, since she doesn't belong to a, let's say, renowned family."

"I know, but trust me, I couldn't care less. I'm interested in her, not her lineage."

"..."

"I assure you, father, my intentions are completely honorable."

"And what would those intentions be?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out."

Father Felipe leaned back on his armchair, still studying Diego's face. He recalled how, when he was only 12 or 13 years old, he'd confessed to him that he'd cheated in a horse race. That is: he cheated to help another boy win, with the sole purpose of giving this kid's father a small contentment, since he was ill and close to passing away.

"I've known you for a long time, Diego; you and your family, I had the privilege of knowing your mother, God rest her soul. Because of this and because I know you're a man of your word, you have my blessing. You may meet here and talk about books or whatever you want-"

"I appreciate-"

"-as long as you keep on mind that this is the house of the Lord and that you always treat this girl with respect and appropriateness."

"Pay no mind, father, that's how it'll be."

"I'm sure of it."

"And thank you."

At the chapel's tower, Pepe made the bells chime: two o'clock in the afternoon.

(...)

Josefina could already see the Mission's gate when the bells announced it was two in the afternoon. The anticipation made her jolt, take a couple more steps, then hide behind a tree.

_Breathe. Breathe. Take it easy, it's just Diego. _

_ 'Just' Diego? 'Just', and I can't stress that enough, 'just' Diego?!_

_ You know what I mean. _

_ I don't. Enlighten me. _

_ You're such a bone head. It's obvious: even if you are prone to get uncontrollably nervous before him, remember how you talked that day at the Mission and then at the tavern. He makes you feel that everything is alright, that you don't have to prove anything to him or pretend to be something you're not. That he enjoys your company. _

_ You think?_

_ Well of course. Otherwise, he wouldn't have asked you to come here to this date._

_ Date? This is a date! Is this a date?_

_ Let's not start that again. Just shut up, shut us up, and go._

After taking a deep breath, she came out of her hideout and continued approaching the Mission, walking in a daydream, taking a good look at every little thing around

_grass, flower, stone, gate_

to make sure they were real, to be certain she wasn't asleep and would wake up all of a sudden.

_ground, dirt, tree, fountain, Diego_

_Oh. _

"Señorita." As soon as he saw her appear in the central patio, he went to meet her and kissed her right hand.

_What should I do?_

_For starters, not thinking_.

She gave him a wide smile, just the way it came out: there was no way of hiding it.

"How are you, don Diego?"

Still looking at her in the eye, he let go of her hand at last:

"I'm way better now, but please don't call me _don_. Just Diego, would you?"

"Only if you call me Josefina, as well."

"It's settled, then."

He offered her his arm. She screamed on the inside.

They went to sit on a bench right underneath the shadow of a huge tree, not a very common one for that area of California.

"Now, at the tavern, I do have to call you _don_. I don't think don Theo would like me to address clients informally."

"I understand. Have you been working there for a long time?"

"Ever since my aunt died, a couple years ago."

"I'm sorry about doña Caridad. I remember her from when I was a kid, don Pedro too. And then one day, you were there."

"You remember that? Me, back then?"

"Of course. I went to pick something up and instead of don Pedro or doña Caridad, it was you there, right at the door."

"And when you spoke to me, I ran away."

"Do _you_ remember that?"

_If I remember that?_

"I remember."

"I never knew where you came from, though. Another city?"

"Monterrey. I lived there with my father until he died and I was suddenly all alone-"

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"-so I came to live with my aunt and uncle. Feels like it was so long ago, but it's not really that much."

"Time is not a constant thing, I believe. At points it drags on forever. And other times, it's as if-"

"It slips through our fingers."

"Now, for example."

"Now?"

"Now. See, I know this moment will end at some point. But I don't want it to."

_Say it. _

"Me neither."

Apart from the time she went to fall right in his arms, at the library, they'd never been this close, sitting right next to the other. The impression that she was dreaming, that she was imagining his dark hair that was always well combed, except for a single rebellious lock that tenaciously attempted to fall over his forehead; his eyes, his mouth, even his nose, his presence, all of him, made her feel disoriented for a moment. But no: he was real. This instant was real and with God as her witness, she didn't want it to ever finish either.

A ball made of cloth came flying from the bushes. Hurrying his way to pick it up, there was a boy.

"Good afternoon!"

"Good afternoon, Pepe, how are you doing?"

"Good, _señor. Señorita. Señor_, would you play with me? Just a moment. Please?"

"Hey, I know how to play too."

"Even better. Think fast, señorita!"

Josefina caught the ball in the air.

"Nice catch, señorita" Diego conceded, as he placed himself a bit further.

"Let's see if you can top it, señor."

(...)

During the following days, all she could think about was how amazing it'd felt to walk arm in arm with him, even if it was only a ten meters stroll. And then, him asking about her life, wanting to know about her… she had to recognize Pepe's sudden appearance was a bit unexpected for a second, but they both made the most of it and a while later, since the child didn't seem to be ready to leave any time soon (had father Felipe sent him?) Diego told him a knights in armor story. The kid was engrossed, listening, with a sparkle of amazement in his eyes, all the while Josefina loved that man even more with each word about dragons, damsels in distress and faraway battles.

"Why are you smiling, girl?"

"Mm? No, for no reason, I'm sorry."

An old widow was staying at the tavern's inn while she visited Los Angeles for a few days. Josefina would bring dinner to the lady's room and, at her request, would keep her company for about an hour each night.

"I've seen that face before. Way too many times."

"What do you mean?"

"Sweetie, you are in love. Very much in love and you know it."

Josefina opened her mouth to deny it, but didn't find the will for it:

"Well… yes."

The lady laughed out loud:

"See? There are three things in this life you cannot hide: the sun, the moon and love."

All of a sudden, there was yelling. Noise, a commotion. A gunshot?

"For the love of God, what is that?"

"I'll go see. Stay here and don't open."

Josefina went out and locked the door behind her back, in case some bandits were attacking the tavern. Instead, what she found in the corridor left her shook: the _Comandante_ Monasterio and Zorro were foil in hand, none of them ready to give in. She shrunk against the wall and stayed right there, immobile, as the last customers ran away down there, probably spooked by the firing.

In the middle of the combat, el Zorro had his back to her most of the time, but in spite of this, she could have sworn that he was grinning, all the while putting his life at stake.

_Is it possible? He's as tall as Diego._

Finally, the outlaw managed to disarm Monasterio who, as if it wasn't enough, stumbled and went tumbling down the stairs.

Then, when a troop of soldiers popped up at the tavern's door, Zorro ran in the blink of an eye to the main balcony's door.

The metal lock wouldn't cave in to his blade.

Josefina didn't think it through twice. Actually, not even once.

She always carried the bunch of keys attached to her white knitted shawl, as not to lose it or leave it somewhere. They were the keys to the main door, to the storeroom, the kitchen, the inn's rooms. The balcony.

"Zorro!" She wrapped the keys in the shawl and tossed them to him, same way she had thrown Pepe's ball several days before. "It's the large one."

The soldiers were_ this _close to reaching the second floor, when the balcony's door was finally open.

A reverence, as if thanking her, and he was gone.

"Lancers! You and you, down the balcony, you three go down the back door and the rest of you…"

Josefina heard no more.

It was all a déja vu inside her head. She didn't hear his voice this time, what she wouldn't have given for hearing him say just one word, and be able to take away from her mind, once and for all, the stupid idea that Diego and Zorro could be one and the same.

_The keys! What will you tell don Theo?_

_One and the same…_

(...)

Note: guys, I use the words "sword" and "foil" indistinctively, I know there are differences but I don't know about that so pardon my ignorance in the matter. Another important thing: I must recognize translating this has been harder than I expected. The thing is: when I wrote this (originally in Spanish), I put feelings, emotions, ideas and images into words. As I translate, I put words into words: words in Spanish into words in English, and I feel that the feelings and emotions are left aside a bit. It's not the same, feeling what Josefina feels at seeing Diego and writing down the words as they come to mind. However, I'm trying! I try to read a sentence, then, I try not to translate word by word, but to translate the idea or the feeling; not always easy but I'm doing my best. Wish me luck! Some things do get lost in translation, for example, in this chapter, Diego asks her to call him "tú" (informal "you") instead of "usted" (formal "you") and other little things like that. Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6: The countryside

Chapter VI

The countryside

"Last one's a rotten egg!"

Wielding a fishing rod, _padre_ Felipe took off running towards the lake. At almost 70 years old, he still had more than enough joviality for that sort of thing. On the other hand, Pepe followed along grumbling, carrying the rest of the things:

"Not fair, _padre _Felipe, wait for me!"

Josefina saw them get away as a light breeze touched her face. Rummaging through aunt Caridad's (God rest her soul) old trunk, she'd found a traveling little hat, very simple but pretty, that she tied up below her chin. She'd never worn anything like it; but then, she'd never gone on a field day with Diego de la Vega.

She sat down on the blanket, next to the baskets Bernardo had just brought from the carriage.

"Do you like this place?" Diego asked, settling down by her side.

_I like hell itself if you're in it. _

Anyway, yes, of course she liked it:

"It's great. I hadn't come to the country in ages and this is just perfect."

In one of the hampers there were baguettes, bread rolls, ham slices, grapes and apples. In the other one, cups, dishes, tea, napkins and various jams and marmalades. Occupied as she was with taking everything out and placing it around, she didn't notice when Diego tossed Bernardo a pack of bait, another one of hooks and some thread, and with a motion of the head, it was clear for the servant that his presence would be better received somewhere else. So, he had no choice but to leave, not before placing a hand over his heart and making it beat fast with a daydreaming face. Diego made as if to throw something at him, as the other one was trotting away already, chuckling to himself.

"May I?" Without notice, his hands on hers, gently stealing from her the napkin she was folding: "Josefina, you don't have to worry about serving the food, Bernardo and I will take care of it."

"Well let me serve the tea at least."

"I must insist."

"…"

"…"

"Alright. If you do it well, we might hire you at the tavern."

"If that means I get to spend the whole day with you, where do I sign?"

She still couldn't believe he'd say a thing like that to her. To her! Contrary to the heart wrenching poems she used to read (and sometimes still read), could love actually be reciprocated? Did he love her? Maybe it was still too soon to think of that hell of a word, but she was sure Diego wasn't the kind of man who would just bring any girl (whether it be princess or waitress, duchess or sweeper) for a day in the countryside. This was a serious thing and it was happening to her. It was hard to believe. Sometimes, it even scared her to stumble by accident upon the invisible sheet that surrounded this sort of fairy tale, and see it crumble to dust in thin air.

But such were ideas of unreal stuff or unfounded fears. This was real: the smell of damp earth, sunlight stubbornly opening its way through several branches of the tree that sheltered them, Diego's presence covering it all.

"Hey, don Diego! Won't you come and fish with us?"

"_Muchacho_, Diego wouldn't catch a shark if it was in a barrel!" father Felipe laughed.

"Don't make me go there and teach you both how to fish, eh?"

Was it a story, a dream or reality, she'd never felt so utterly good.

"_Confiture de fruits: framboises et grenades_…" she muttered.

"_Comment_?"

"_Confiture de fruits: framboises et grenades_" she repeated, showing him the marmalade flask: "_Aimez vous la confiture_?"

"_Bien s__û__r. Et vous parlez fran__çais_?"

"Speak French as such, I don't think so, but I used to like it a lot. I only remember a little bit. May I?"

"Please."

She took the lid off and tasted a spoonful: raspberry and pomegranate, indeed.

"My mother loved French, she always wanted me to learn. She died when I was three but my father made sure to fulfill her wish and got me a French teacher. Until he lost it all… gambling: the money, the hacienda, everything. Later on, he died too… I found him, he was pretty much soaked in alcohol and… I'm sorry, I shouldn't bring that up, it's too much of a beautiful day to talk about those things."

"No, please don't apologize, you can tell me anything you feel like. And, for what it's worth, I'm really sorry you had to go through all of that."

"It _is _worth. In fact… I'd never told anyone about that. It's weird, I feel like I took a weight off my shoulders."

"Then I'm glad I can help you carry it."

"Something bit!" they heard Pepe yell: "_Padre_, Bernardo, help me out!"

(…)

On the way to the lake, she was the last one they picked up, so she sat in the back seats of the carriage with Bernardo, while Pepe traveled all huddled in the very back with the baskets. However, when it was time to come back, father Felipe apologized for what he called his _earlier rudeness_ and begged Josefina to sit at the front, next to Diego.

So, the trip back to the town took about an hour, but for her, it felt like half a minute. Her teenage fantasies came back to mind, during which she'd travel by horse with that unreachable don Diego. This was infinitely better.

"Well, you're back home, safe and sound" he announced, once they stopped in front of her house: "Are you sure your uncle is still unwell?"

"Yes, he went back to feeling bad yesterday, I left him in bed this morning. I think it's best to let him rest."

"All right."

_Now don't you come and tell me this is out of plain courtesy. He took the niece out and now wanted to show his face. Is there anything he doesn't do right?_

_ I yield, I yielded a while ago: no_.

She saw him get off the carriage, circle it and approach. She'd imagined this, too, who knows how many times: him, offering her his hands, helping her get off the carriage, the both of them staring at the other's eyes…

"So long, Josefina. I hope we meet again soon."

A kiss on the hand, his fingers touching hers. It was too much.

"I hope so too. _Adiós_."

She said her goodbyes to the rest of the company and went through her home's door almost levitating.

(…)

"…_This, no doubt, Sancho, will be a most mighty and perilous adventure, in which it will be needful for me to put forth all my valour and resolution."_

_ "Unlucky me!" answered Sancho; "if this adventure happens to be one of phantoms, as I am beginning to think it is, where shall I find the ribs to bear it?" "Be they phantoms ever so much," said Don Quixote, "I will not permit them to touch a thread of thy garments; for if they played tricks with thee the time before, it was because I was unable to leap the walls of the yard; but now we are on a wide plain, where I shall be able to wield my sword as I please…"_

Josefina placed the book on her lap and marked the page on chapter 19 with a piece of ribbon. That day's field trip (her only free day during the week) had left her sort of overwhelmed, and now, as she read Don Quixote and his sword fights, Zorro was the one appearing in her mind, and so was Diego. The strange comparison made her giggle to herself.

Two knocks on her bedroom's door.

"What are you doing out of bed, uncle Pedro? Do you want more tea?"

"The neighbor just came."

"And you went to open the door? You should have stayed in bed. Come on, take a seat."

"No, no, no. She told me the whole town saw you today in a carriage with some rich people." All right, she wasn't expecting that. "With a rich _señor_, to be more precise."

"_Padre_ Felipe was there too and Pepe, and a servant and-"

"No, no, no, no, I don't want to hear anything about that, I don't even want to know who it was."

"But I-"

"Let _me_ do the talking and keep that tone in check, will you?" She couldn't remember the last time he'd spoken to her that way: "I don't know if you're aware of what a little trip like that one might seem, when we're talking about a rich _señor _and the tavern's waitress. Are you? Are you aware?"

She had to gather her courage to reply: "Well I don't what people think or what you think, but I know I wasn't doing anything wrong! Besides, _padre_ Felipe was there and-"

"Leave the priest out of this, that doesn't exempt you, if-" A fit of cough attacked him all of a sudden, so bad, that she had to hold him by an arm so he wouldn't lose balance. "I just want what's best for-"

No use. Josefina took him to his bedroom, put him into bed and covered him, then helped him drink some water and made him tea, all of this as he coughed and coughed nonstop. When he turned drowsy, half asleep and half-awake but mostly the first, she dried up the sweat on his forehead with a tissue, went to her room and lied back in bed, hanging on to the Don Quixote that was lent to her, forcing herself to think about those roll breads with marmalade, the sunbeams raining through the branches and a carriage trip down a faraway land, in order to avoid crying.

(…)

It was late already. She hadn't had any sleep or moved from the same spot, when… something… she was sure she'd heard it. But maybe not, maybe…

Again: two distinct knocks on the window.

She jumped out of bed and stayed motionless, hardly breathing at all, as to take a good listen: silence, the barking of a dog faraway and again, two little knocks. With her heart racing, she snatched a candelabrum that had seen its last candle a very long time ago, and approached step by step, as sneakily as her shaky nerves allowed her to.

"It looks like we always meet in the middle of some kind of battle" the tall and dark figure on the other side of the window spoke: "But I beg you, _señorita_: lay down your weapon."

She actually almost drops the weapon. She had to hold it tight with both hands, then place it on something, whatever was closest.

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to return this."

Her white shawl and the tavern's keys. Right that instant, she realized she'd always known he'd find a way to give them back to her. And she knew _it_ because she knew _him_. Because it _was_ him.

"Ah…"

"And to thank you, of course, for helping me out that night."

The keys were placed next to the candelabrum. The shawl, she threw it over her shoulders and wrapped herself in it; the air incoming through the window was somewhat cool.

"You're welcome. And thanks."

"Is everything all right?"

It was a moonless night: it was pretty much equally dark in the room and outside. So she dared to take another step closer, enough to make out the mask, the hat, the cape, even the mustache.

"Yes."

"Are you sure? Is there anything I can help you with?"

"No, I'm fine."

He wasn't convinced, but there wasn't much more he could do.

"Then I'll get going. Once again, thank you. And so long, _señorita_."

Had she been able to freeze time and think things through for a few moments at least, she'd have probably come to the conclusion that she shouldn't do it. Maybe at some point, later on and if things continued moving forward in the amazing way they were doing it, he'd even tell her himself. She'd never mean to… put him in evidence, let alone push him to reveal something like that. Had she stopped herself, had she covered her mouth with both hands, what would have been different? We'll never know. Because what really happened, was that both of the voices in her head crashed and converged in her throat, to then pronounce a single word in a whisper, when he'd already turned to leave:

"Diego?"

There, she said it.

He turned back around:

"Excuse me?"

"Diego" she repeated, this time with conviction.

"Why do you call me that?"

"Because… I know it's you." She took the leap. She let go everything she'd gathered inside in five years of _good morning, señorita_, of seeing him from the distance, of being in love, of allegedly getting over it, only to see him again and fall back in love, now for good. "Because I know you'd help people they way… you do, the way Zorro does, he's supposed to be an outlaw, right? but people root for him and I know you'd do that Diego because I know your voice, ever since you'd go to the shop and I saw you there and I'd hear your voice and you can't hide it from me, and I know your eyes even if it's dark, they're the same ones from today's field trip and the same ones that look at me like… that. Because I know you and I know it's… you."

For a moment that dragged on seemingly forever, he didn't say a word. Truth be told, she hadn't really asked anything, so there was no _yes_ or _no_ to be answered. Maybe everything would just stay the way it was.

"_Señorita_, I'm sorry to disappoint you but-"

She cupped his face in her hands. It wasn't like her to dare to do something like this, but tonight… and it wasn't just the night: it was him and her, here and now.

And she tried to slide down the black Zorro mask.

Why was she doing this?

There wasn't an exact reason. Only being close to him.

Right then, he stopped her by taking her hands in his gloved ones. A kiss on the knuckles, on the tips of her fingers, on the back of her hand. Now the other one.

She wouldn't insist. She didn't even understand why she'd tried such a thing.

And there he was, placing her hands on both sides of his face again.

More than seeing him, she felt him nod once.

What would change? That, she knew: nothing. She loved him all the same, Zorro or not, Diego or _don _Diego. He was the same man she loved, before, now and always.

She slid his mask down and couldn't refrain her tears, her hands cupping his face again, hands he kissed over and over again, holding her wrists.

"You're crazy."

"I am if I don't do this."

And he kissed her.


	7. Chapter 7: The house

Chapter VII

The house

"You're right. It _is_ me." His face was finally so close to hers, his voice occupied the entirety of the space around. A kiss… she'd read the most diverse descriptions in novels that were more or less melodramatic. It was now obvious that those were nothing but letters printed in paper, only pale attempts of the real thing. This… Diego's lips on hers, his breathing, his arms embracing her… this was… everything. "I won't hide it from you anymore."

Words were out of reach. But she tried:

"What you do… is dangerous, God, there's a reward for you, dead or alive."

"I still have to do it."

"I know, I know you have to, I know it's part of who you are but… it's still scary to think something might happen to you."

"Listen." It was now him who cupper her face in his hands: "Nothing bad's going to happen to me. Do you believe me?" She nodded. She had to believe it. He then went on: "When I arrived, you were sad or worried about something. What was it?"

She'd even forgotten about that.

"Nothing, it doesn't matter."

"Anything that concerns you, matters to me. Besides, I think we can tell each other anything at this point, can't we?"

Coming from an unmasked Zorro…

"Well, yes."

She told him about uncle Pedro's reprimand.

"I see. I think he has a good point. We'll have to take care of that soon."

"How are-" Suddenly, a fit of cough in the other bedroom, attempts to call her name without managing to put the word together. "Looks like he heard us."

"Is he all right?"

"Yes, that usually happens at night, I have to go and…"

"Of course." He put the mask on, back into its rightful place. He was Zorro again.

"So long, _señorita_. I hope to see you again soon."

"So long…"

Another kiss, this one for the road.

"I'm on my way, uncle Pedro!"

(…)

The following morning, another normal day started at the tavern. There was wine to serve, dishes to do, a couple of new guests at the inn to show their rooms to, another room to dust, to change the sheets and tidy up. And no one knew, no one could even phantom it: that the girl in a blue skirt and white blouse that went from here to there invisibly, had been kissed by the man she loved the previous night, mere hours ago, so few, that she could pretty much still feel him in front of her. Maybe her friend, the widowed lady, would have noticed and come up with one of her remarks; but she'd left town a couple days before. So it was only herself and her secret. And what a secret. Diego was in fact Zorro, it seemed so obvious now. Who else would concern himself about those who needed it the most and actually get involved in assisting them, risking his own life? Who else would defy authority, jump around roofs, fence his way around and be so brave? It all made sense now, ever since she saw him for the very first time over five years ago at her aunt and uncle's shop: he wasn't a regular man. It was impossible not to fall in love with him.

She didn't see him during the whole day. However, the tavern's patronage would talk and talk about how that very day, _el Zorro_ had saved two young_ vaqueros _from the gallows. There was a persecution over the mountains too, where he helped them escape and, as if that wasn't enough, he also proved they were innocent of the crime held against them. Josefina heard all of these stories without saying a word, trying to fit into her mind the idea that _that Zorro_ they talked about, Diego de la Vega and the man that kissed her at her window the previous night, were no other but one and, yes, the same.

On Friday around noon, her heart almost pops out of her mouth when she saw him coming into the tavern alongside Sergeant García.

"Good afternoon, _señorita_."

"Good afternoon, _señores_. Wine?"

"Oh! _Sí, sí!_ Thank you very much. Don Diego, it's so fortunate we met today, I wanted to tell you about…"

She left them talking there, happy to see him even for a moment and even like this.

"Josefina." Don Theo came behind the bar as well, took a glass and started drying it, just like she was doing. He told her in a low voice: "I'll take care of table one, if you don't mind. It's more appropriate."

A dry glass was lined up next to the other ones. She took a new one and kept on drying.

"And what exactly do you mean by that?"

"I don't mean a thing. Only that I don't appreciate it when people gossip about my employees. Please take all of that stuff to the storeroom."

She was so angry she could hardly breathe, as she organized the trays back there.

(…)

It wasn't her imagination: don Theo had made her work harder than ever that day, and she knew well why. But she didn't complain a single time, did everything she had to do and even managed to finish her shift relatively early. Too bad Diego left without her realizing when. Either way, she was again struggling to hold back a smile, at the thought of the previous night's kisses, when she was opening the door to her home. The sight that greeted her was unusual: her uncle in one of the discolored and termite eaten away armchairs.

"_Tío!_ How do you feel? Did you eat the soup that I-"

_Well paint me green and call me a pickle!,_ as aunt Cari used to say.

At the other armchair and standing up at seeing her come in, there was Diego.

"Good afternoon, _señorita_. May I help you with that?" He took from her the basket of leftover vegetables don Theo always allowed her to bring home at the end of the day: "Is it alright on that table?"

"…"

It was don Pedro the one to reply: "Yes, don Diego, it's fine, thank you."

Josefina didn't know where to look at, where to place her hands or what to do at all. It was the most unexpected, unusual scene: a De la Vega, with his made in Spain suit (which, must be said, looked so good on him), who was about two meters tall and gallant from the wave in his hair to the well-polished boots, in the narrow and murky living room of the most ordinary little house in the most rustic side of town.

And nevertheless, it made sense.

"I was just telling your uncle that it's getting late and I wouldn't want to bother him anymore, but I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye to you. Time to go, then. So long, _señorita_" he placed a kiss on her right hand.

"Bye" she managed to articulate.

"Don Pedro, thank you very much, it's been a pleasure to meet you after such a long time."

"The pleasure is mine, don Diego. Goodbye." Don Pedro stood up and the both of them shook hands. The old man had a better aspect this day, though an air of disbelief, like he couldn't believe his own eyes and ears.

"Thank you again."

Another nod and Diego walked out the same door Josefina had just walked in through.

"Well. I'm going to bed."

"_Tío_! What was that? What did Diego- don Diego tell you?"

"Ah, we talked for a long time."

"…"

"…"

"About what?!"

"Men's business."

"But what-"

"Quit on the snooping and go mind your own business, would you? I'm going to sleep." And with that, he headed to his bedroom, dragging his feet.

(…)

There were two keys that wouldn't go back up after being played; it was necessary to take a second to lift them back into place, but even so, the Mission's old piano was better than nothing. Josefina didn't remember many pieces and didn't have any scores either. Only an auditory and tactile memory that allowed her to recall most of this sonata. As she played it, she felt she was walking into a new and marvelous place, whether it was a magical forest or some fairy tale castle, that didn't matter; these notes could transport you anywhere you wanted.

He'd show up at any moment, she knew that; maybe he was around already and could listen to her play. Each note was a call for him, an extension of her own voice that had been calling him in silence for ages.

Her fingers stopped. Those two keys needed to get fixed one way or the other.

"That's incredibly beautiful, Josefina."

"The sonata is. But this is all I know, I can't remember the last part."

He came to sit on the bench by her side. The brief touch of his arm against hers gave her a shiver: "I didn't know you played the piano. Looks like every day I discover another surprise of you."

"_Me_? _I_, have surprises?"

It was undreamed-of: the two of them together, in the secluded niche that a piano creates against wall, which had always seemed so lonely to her, joking around about a shared secret.

"Pleasant surprises: yes, always."

"For example" she went on: "It was quite the surprise to get home the other day and find you in the living room with my uncle."

"I told you we had to take care of it and, you see, it's taken care of."

"Ah. So you take care of everything?"

"I do what I can. And what I can't do, I try. May I ask you something? Would you play that again?"

"May I confess something to you? I used to feel… embarrassed about people hearing me play. Which might be absurd because an instrument will always be heard by others."

"Well, we can leave it for another day then."

"No. That was before or with other people. For you, I can play."

The piece she'd played so many times before seemed entirely new. Feeling Diego's stare on her hands, on her bare arms, being so close to him that her elbow bumped against him whenever she went for the higher notes, sent her to another type of dimension.

He was listening to her, looking at her, he wanted to kiss her again, she knew it.

The last part of the sonata came back to mind out of the blue and she could play it for the first time in years.

(…)

The night watchman who announced midnight had walked by out there few minutes ago. It should be about 12:10 now. 12:15 was the appointed time. Josefina was at the window, ready to go, with her other shawl, the dark one, covering her head and an almost tangible mixture of excitement, agitation, nervousness and whatever other synonyms of these exist. She didn't think something like this was included in the permission conceded by uncle Pedro.

_Who cares? Here I go either way_.

Truth be told, both voices had already converged into one some time ago.

A trotting came from very far away; then, closer and closer with each second, as her heart pounded inside her chest at the same rhythm. Finally, it halted at her window: _el Zorro_, wrapped in black, on his steed of the same color; Diego on his horse, same way she saw him at the shop a million years ago.

"Good evening, _señorita_. Are you going my way?"

With a leap she wouldn't have believed herself capable of, she emerged from the window:

"I might be."

He helped her up and in a jiffy, they were gone.

And they were flying. Not literally, of course, but that's for sure how she felt. It was a complete and joyful surrender, knowing she wasn't in control of anything, that he was the one leading the horse all the while surrounding her with his arms and that this way, she'd never been safer in her life.

"Are you doing fine there?"

"Yes, where are we going?"

"That's another surprise."

Through paths and arid hills, Tornado didn't hesitate once, until they halted at last. Diego got off and helped her do the same.

"Here we are."

It was a full moon night and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. They were on a cliff and down there, the deep gorge and steep walls went on perhaps for miles. A river flowed somewhere at the bottom and far away, there stood the dark mountains. It was a colossal and rocky sight, like a glimpse into an unknown planet. And there were about fifty thousand stars, way more than those visible from the town, or those anyone cared to look up at.

"I come here sometimes, especially when there are too many lancers swarming down the roads and Zorro can't go back home just yet. I don't think anyone else knows this place, maybe the Indians got here at some point but no one else."

"It's amazing, look how many stars. And look, over there… there's… no one else. In the world, actually. We're the only ones."

"We _are_ the only ones" he agreed.

She turned towards him: "I wanted to ask you, why did you trust me? To tell me… this."

He took the mask off. There was the face she loved.

"Josefina…" He brushed her cheek lightly, the dark hair that escaped from the shawl and framed her face: "Some things you just know. I could give you a number of explanations or come up with a dozen reasons. But I know I don't need them. Because I feel it."

The distance between them was minimal now, so much, that she could almost smell his skin, or die right then and there in front of him.

"Diego…" She loved saying his name out loud. And she also loved his lips on hers again.

For sure there was nothing else, no mountains, no stars, only this kiss, in the entirety of the universe.

"I love you, Josefina."

Her eyes filled with tears. There was no reason to hold them back.

"I've always loved you."

"Really?"

"Of course."

"I'm glad to hear that, because I wanted to ask you something."

_Something. _

Something like what?

Something like seeing him getting down on one knee.

Something in his hand, out of nowhere, a little box.

Something… he removes one glove and throws it aside and there's something shining inside the wooden box.

Something his eyes are telling her, they always say it all.

Something like what?

Like this.

(…)

Note: All righty! Here it is. I wanted to say that, after writing this, I wondered if the moonlight would be enough to allow the view of the canyon/cliff place; ha! Let's imagine it is. Also, the part about Diego being "about two meters tall" I took it literally from a comment on a Youtube video, of a person from Argentina who says that, in the 80's, he stumbled upon Guy Williams on a street of Buenos Aires. One more thing: I don't know if it's too soon for proposals, what do you think? Well things worked out differently back then, right? Also, I remember the episode with Magdalena; she and Diego met when they were kids but they hadn't seen each other in years. Then she comes back, they meet again and that very evening, don Alejandro asked Diego if they should announce the engagement already. So, I guess it was normal then XD Anyway! Thanks for reading and please drop me a review, thanks again.


	8. Chapter 8: The cliff

Chapter VIII

The cliff

_Before_

"My son, you wanted to talk to me. Here I am."

Diego placed the cigar in the ashtray when seeing his father enter the living room and take a seat in front of him, on the other side of the little table that was usually an arena for duels of checkers or chess.

He hoped the subject of this day wouldn't end up in confrontation.

"Yes, I know we've been very busy lately, with the new cattle and all of that, but this is important."

Don Alejandro nodded: "I'm all ears."

Diego couldn't remember the last time he'd vacillated about what would be the best way to start saying something. He'd always had a way with words, prompt and precise in his speech, but this was something else. It was best, then, to just go straight to the point:

"Father, many times you've insisted that I should get married."

"I have. And I keep it."

"Well." How to put it? Yes: nothing but the truth: "I'm glad to let you know I've found the right woman."

Don Alejandro's usual stern expression lit up: "Diego! This is incredible news, you're not joking, are you?"

"No, of course not."

"I always knew this day would come!" he even gave him a hug: "We have to celebrate this, wine?, no, champagne, Bernardo!, ah, he went to sleep already, it doesn't matter, wine will do." He uncorked the bottle and kept on, all the while serving two glasses of Venetian crystal: "You had me thinking I'd go to my grave without seeing any grandchildren running around this house, but tell me, is it Magdalena? Or Rosarito? She and her family are living in Monterrey at the moment but that's not a problem, we can make an engagement party here and another one there. Cheers! Is it either of them? Or Elena Torres, perhaps?"

The son took a sip: "Neither of them, no. Her name is Josefina."

Don Alejandro surveyed his memory, with no success:

"I don't think I know her, whose daughter is she?"

"I haven't asked her parents' names, I didn't think that would be too relevant."

"But what's her family name? How did you meet her?"

Diego placed the glass on the table, next to the ashtray: "Father, Josefina is don Pedro's niece, he used to own the leather shop at the market. She helped around there but since it closed, she works at the tavern now, as a waitress."

The father stared at the son for a few moments, as if he wasn't sure he'd heard well.

"Ah." He headed back to his chair. "A waitress… at the tavern."

"Is there a problem with that? Or anything reproachable?"

"Don't put words in my mouth."

"I didn't mean to. Forgive me, I just didn't know how you'd react. I know you'd been expecting the daughter or granddaughter of one of your friends. But she's the one I want to be with."

"Diego, I'm not saying there's anything wrong with this girl, but there are _señoritas_ from well-known families… Magdalena for example, she cares about you, you know it well."

"Yes but you have to meet Josefina. Not only is she beautiful, she's intelligent and we can talk for hours and that's exactly what I always want to do, just be with her at all times and-"

"You didn't get her pregnant or did you? I'm being entirely frank here, I'm your father."

"And I'd allow only my father to ask such a thing about her. She might be a waitress but that doesn't mean she-"

"All right, all right, but you must admit it's not an outrageous question, given the circumstances."

"If we were talking about the daughter of a rancher, would you have asked me that question?"

"Evidently not, but I know how they were raised and who their families are."

"And I know Josefina."

Both wine glasses were half empty on the table.

He had to keep trying:

"Listen, father, just give yourself the chance to meet her and I assure you you'll see what I see. A wonderful woman, sweet and courageous at the same time, honest, she also takes care of her sick uncle and-"

"Can you let me think for a moment?"

It was an order, not a request.

Don Alejandro opened the wooden box of the cigars and took one. He always did, when something worried him or a decision had to be made.

For a while, the pendulum of the antique clock was the only sound in the living room of the De la Vega ranch.

At last, the eldest one of the presents spoke:

"What you said about you wanting to be with this girl all the time… it reminds me of how I felt when I met your mother. It wasn't enough to have permission to visit her half an hour a day, I wanted to… precisely that, be with her at all times." When he talked about his deceased wife, which happened rarely, it seemed his eyes traveled back to the past, to see something that only he and no one else could see. Then, he came back to the present: "Son, facts have proven something to me: that a father could not be more proud of his son, than I am of you. And I don't say this only because of Zorro but because of everything. Truth is, if I died right now, I'd happily go, having the certitude that you are a full grown man, with integrity and criteria, whose decisions have always proven to be the fair ones, at times even against my own perhaps obsolete ideas. If you really like this girl, Josefina-"

"I love her."

"Then I have no objections. Cheers."

(…)

_After_

"The first time I saw you after I got back from Spain, you didn't see me. I was just coming into town and the carriage pulled over. And right at the center of the market, with all of the people around, there was you and I immediately remembered you from the shop. You were at a fruits stand, waiting to pay I think and… you were talking to a dog."

Apparently, it's actually possible to cry and laugh at the same time. She didn't know any more if her feet were touching the ground, or if this was happening in reality or it was another one of her fantasies.

_It's real._

_ Are you sure?_

_ Yes._

_ Great_…

"You seemed to be having a very interesting conversation with it. Your face, and what a lovely face, had all of these little, different expressions, as if you were telling a story to it. Then the dog walked away but your smile lingered on you. And on me too. I told myself you had to be very pure in spirit to do that, just because you felt like it, like there was no one else around. And since then I've been just like this: looking at you, staring at you, trying to find a way to talk to you and always wanting to be closer to you. Because there's no one in the world like you, Josefina."

She squeezed his hand.

_ Yes, it's real. _

"I don't have to pretend anything when I'm around you, Zorro, Diego, it doesn't matter, I'm just me and even though the life I live, as you very well said, has its dangers, I promise I'll do everything in my power, and everything not in my power as well, to keep you out of danger's reach, and I'll always keep you safe and I'll always love you, just like I love you today and more if possible, if you marry me."

Was there anything to ponder?

"Yes" she said, tears pouring down: "Yes… with or… without danger, I don't care about that. I'm with you no matter what." They kissed again.

Then he showed her the little polished wooden box: "It belonged to my mother. And to my grandmother before that. It was their engagement ring. Now it's yours. May I?"

She nodded and nodded again.

He took her left hand, the hand of the heart, which was shaking as if it were freezing cold around, and placed the ring in her finger: it was made of silver with three gemstones, the one in the middle being the largest.

"Sorry I'm tearing up this much, it's…"

"It's all right." The shawl had slid down to her shoulders, so he wrapped her in his arms and kissed the top of her head. "I'm happy too."

"I love you, Diego" it came out muffled against his chest, against his black Zorro shirt.

"And I love _you, _Josefina. I love you."

(…)

At about three in the morning she was back in her bedroom, a place that seemed utterly tiny and minuscule to hold inside everything that was radiating out of Josefina's pores.

She let herself fall backwards on the bed, stretched out, laughed, regarded once more the ring in her hand; even in this darkness, it managed to steal light from somewhere and sparkle a little bit. It had been his mother's, his grandmother's… something so meaningful for him and surely for don Alejandro too. And holy Jesus in heaven, it was now in her hand as a symbol of…

"Love! Love, love, love, lovelovelove, I love yooooou" she whispered about eight hundred times. A whole life by his side flashed before her eyes, having breakfast, lunch and dinner together, every day; talking, making decisions and why not, let's be realistic, sometimes arguing, doing everything together, and she even remembered how aunt Cari, long time ago, had explained to her, with very little detail, how is it that husbands and wives do to make babies.

And she laughed again. And cried and laughed, until the first morning birds began to chirp.

(…)

"Don Theo, may I leave earlier today?"

"What time?"

"Could it be at four?"

"How come?"

"If you'll excuse me, it's a personal thing."

The innkeeper took a look around before answering: "In over two years that you've been working here, you'd never asked for permission to arrive late or leave early. And coincidentally, now that you're… all _mixed up_ around there, you need to leave early because of a personal thing."

"I'm not all mixed up around anywhere" she replied, trying hard to stay calm: "May I or not?"

"You may. Just for this time."

"Thank you."

"Look. Josefina, during all this time I have grown fond of you, that's why I'll take the liberty to give you a piece of advice, because of that and also because wisdom comes with this white hair you see. Diego de la Vega has always been an exemplary man, a gentleman. But men like him, who come from reputable families, never pursue anything serious with girls that aren't in their level. Keep that on mind."

What she was in fact keeping, but underneath the blouse and against her chest, was the ring of the De la Vega ladies, hanging from her neck with knitting yarn, double turn and quadruple knot. She'd sense it through the white fabric every now and then, to make sure it was still there.

"I appreciate your concern, don Theo. I'm going to take the meals to those tables over there."

And she really did appreciate it; she knew he meant well, just as uncle Pedro had.

It's just that life surprises us all sometimes.

(…)

The blue dress would do. In fact, it was the only one she could count on, because the pink one had grew a few random stains of some sort, from moisture and from being kept inside the armoire for so long. It's not like she had a lot of opportunities to wear either of them, her usual attire consisted in a skirt and blouse. The hairdo was pretty acceptable, simple but still a little different than she usually wore it at the tavern, the metallic hairpins had helped. The pearl earrings that belonged to her mother, the only thing she could save from her father's gambling and pawn shops. A ribbon as necklace.

"Uncle Pedro!" her head popped out of the armoire, as the trunk on the floor had garments and knickknacks of all type and age pouring out: "Have you see my aunt's shawl? The silk one with the embroidery flower."

"The what? No, I don't know about that. Come here for a moment."

"I think I saw it around here at some point but I can't remember where…"

"Josefina."

"…I mean I have the white one but it's a little-"

"Josefina de Jesús, come over here right this instant."

It'd been years since the last time he'd called her by her full name.

There in his big reading chair that he barely used anymore, wearing his only suit, uncle Pedro appeared to her even a tad younger:

"One question: Diego de la Vega proposed to you because you had a silk shawl on?"

Her own answer plus the look she probably had standing there barefoot seemed ridiculous to her: "No but-"

"No buts. He loves you, period. That was clear enough to me the afternoon I opened that door and found him there, and he asked for my permission to court you and asked for your hand, all at once, if you accepted. So quit on the foolishness and the silk shawl nonsense, because he cares about you no matter if princess or waitress." The old man's voice broke; her heart, a bit too: "Or as a bride, indeed…"

She knelt by his side and hugged him:

"I know, it's just that… it makes me really nervous to meet his father. Well I've seen him before I guess, but not like this. I want to give him a good impression."

"You'll give him a good impression, child. With this" he pointed at his temple with a nubby hand: "And with this" then, hand over his heart.

She felt even more ridiculous now, but at the same time, glad that he was around to help her see something so evident and clear.

"It's true…"

"Besides, of all of the _dones_ and _señores_ who dropped by the shop during all those years, don Alejandro was always one of the wisest. Can't deny he's got his temper-"

"Ow…"

"-but he'll like you, you'll see". He patted her on the head; an uncommon thing, he wasn't the mushy type: "Caridad would be really happy to see you like this."

"Thanks. Thanks for everything. Are you sure you can come?"

"Sure thing, I feel just like new today. Well. Go and finish getting ready, it's almost five thirty. Where's the ring?"

"There, in my bedroom. I should wear it, right?"

"You must have sawdust inside that skull."

"_Tío_! The thing is that it belonged to don Alejandro's wife, and his mother also, and I don't know if he'll like that all of a sudden a stranger is wearing it and-"

"You're no stranger, you're his son's fiancée. If don Diego gave you the darn ring, it's for you to wear it and because his father agreed. Not wearing it would be disdainful."

She gaped in horror:

"You're right… ahh uncle Pedro, what would I do without you?" she gave him a kiss on the bald head and hurried out of his room.

"No, _muchachita_: what would _I_ have done without you?"

Once in her bedroom, she put the shoes on, then cut the cord that had been securing the ring the whole day, and placed the jewel in her finger. She was admiring it for the nth time when someone knocked on the door.

(…)


	9. Chapter 9: The ranch

Chapter 9

The ranch

As soon as she heard the carriage approach, doña Luisa rushed to the window and saw it stopping by right in front of don Pedro's house, just like last time. She was already preparing the gossip and aggrandizing it with details of her own invention _(the niece running away with that De la Vega young man, all by themselves and almost at dinner time, she'd come back in the morning, most likely_) when her prying turned into disbelief and finally into astonishment, when seeing uncle and niece, the both of them, get on the carriage with don Diego and leave.

Not like she was going to keep the secret, she was nobody's tomb.

(…)

_ You're Diego's fiancée. _

_ We're going to his home to formally meet his father_.

Vertigo and euphoria were running through her veins and became almost solid at the sight of the main entrance of the De la Vega ranch.

"Is everything all right?" he asked her. On the back, Bernardo was helping uncle Pedro get off of the carriage.

"Yes." She couldn't get herself to tell this man even one per cent of a lie: "Sort of. I just want everything to turn out well."

"And it will" he replied, with a kiss on her hand that would be able to melt a sheet of iron: "I'm sure he'll like you."

"How do you know?"

"Because _I _like you. Shall we?"

No silk shawls.

Just her, in Diego's arm, and the truth.

"I was born in this house. I used to run around this patio and climb on those trees when I was a kid."

"But you've quit on those odysseys now, haven't you?" don Pedro said jokingly; he seemed to be in quite a good mood this day.

The other two shared a knowing glance.

"That's true. These days I spend my time helping my father with the ranch and the business, reading and soon, getting married."

Oddly enough, she felt a bit calmer all of a sudden. How not to, with him by her side and saying those things?

Bernardo opened the door to the house. On the other side: don Alejandro de la Vega.

"Josefina" he greeted, holding both of her hands.

"Don Alejandro, thank you so much for inviting us over."

"People always say it's a pleasure to meet someone, as a mere formality. But I'm saying it to you in all sincerity: I'm so very glad to meet you and to have you and your uncle here at home."

The old shopkeeper and his former customer greeted each other with a handshake.

"Don Alejandro" the uncle continued once they'd taken a seat in the entrance hall: "Just as my niece said, I would like to thank you for the invite, it truly is an honor."

"I assure the honor is all mine."

Everyone agreed, different comments were made and several topics were brought up. Josefina did her best in focusing all of her attention in the conversation, not to let herself be overwhelmed by the idea of the surrealism of the scene. There was a moment in which she noticed Diego's father (he'd be her father in law… _her_ father in law!) was taking a look at her left hand, in which was shining the jewel that was already at the third generation.

"May I?" he extended his hand. She gave hers to him. Had he noticed it was cold? "Twenty six years… was the time this ring was kept at the bottom of a trunk, sad about losing its previous owner, but hopeful that someday, another woman worthy of wearing it would arrive. I know we barely know each other, Josefina, but if Diego says you are that woman, I believe him."

_Don't you dare cry in here_.

She swallowed the tears that had only started to mist her eyes:

"Thank you, don Alejandro. I understand what it means for your family and I assure you I'm carrying it with a lot of respect and I always will, and with… all of the love I have for your son."

"Well. But stop trembling, will you?" he squeezed her hand softly: "We're among family here."

Bernardo brought wine. Dinner would be ready soon.

(…)

There were books and more books wherever you turned to, inside the dreamy library decorate in polished wood.

"What do you think?"

Josefina saw History and Poetry books, also a method to learn French of seven volumes of about a thousand pages each.

"It's incredible, I hadn't seen so many books in one place in years."

"Better get used to it, this will be your home."

_Living with him. _

_ Don't you dare faint in here_.

"Our home?"

"Exactly, our home" he agreed and glanced at the doorway: two voices that chattered about horses at the dining room could be heard. The coast was clear, a little kiss wouldn't hurt.

Right then, Bernardo stepped a foot in the library and when being met by said sight, he turned on his heel and vanished, loaded with the tray and the teapot, the tea cups, sugar and honey.

She didn't notice him at all. All of her five senses were in that kiss.

"You know, I've been thinking about uncle Pedro living on his own. I'll have to visit him often and-"

"You don't have to visit him if he comes to live here."

"Are you serious?"

"This house is too big, there's an entire wing that no one uses. We'd have our space and he would too."

"Anyway, he's very attached to his things. I don't think he'd want to just pack his bags and move somewhere else."

"Well, let's do something: you make the offer and if he says no, we'll get someone to help him around the house and you can visit him whenever you like. How about that?"

Staring straight to the front, her eyes got almost to his chin. There, his skin was so close to her. She could reach for it with two fingers, as if examining the bone of his jaw, the almost invisible shadow of stubble.

"Just making sure you're real" she replied to his inquisitive look: "You're a prince."

A kiss on her fingers.

"Prince? No: Zorro." Another kiss. This time, there was no ill-timed Bernardo. Then, he spoke again: "What do you think about the engagement party? I think my father was so caught up by the idea, he didn't even ask you."

"I like it. It's not intimidating at all that all of the guests will be the rancheros and their families, captains, governors and I don't know, the King too?"

"In fact, it's customary to send him an invitation as well, though it's understood that he won't come because of the distance."

"Ah, that makes me feel better. No, you know I'm kidding. It does intimidate me a bit but they are a part of your life and wherever you are, I want to be there. No matter what."

"No matter what and for life. And… I wanted to ask you something else: if we're getting married in a month, don't you think it's not necessary that you work anymore? You're going to be my wife. And it should be your decision, but I want you to know you can count of me if you decide not to go back to the tavern."

"…"

"Promise you're not taking it the wrong way."

"Of course I'm not, it's just that…"

"Yes?"

"…"

"We can say anything to each other, right?"

"It's just that I don't want anyone to think that I'm with you because of…"

"Hm?"

It was hard to put it into words. But he was right: no secrets.

_No silk shawls. _

"…because of your money. You know it's not like that."

"You've just said it yourself: I know it's not like that. That's what matters to me. If the neighbor or an associate of an associate of my father thinks differently, I'm not able to care less."

"Yes but also my uncle, the tavern's salary is the only thing that supports him too."

"You mean _my_ uncle?" he winked and added: "_No matter what_."

Another thing about Diego: he always smelled so good. She didn't think it was perfume, maybe it was soap or the cigars or all of it. Maybe it was him.

She tapped and brushed his jaw again: ah, yes, he was actual flesh and bone.

"I'll work one more month, up until the wedding. Yes?"

"Whatever you say. And I want to give you something else."

"More?"

"I've only just started."

(…)

"What's all that? Who are you? Josefina?!"

From his bedroom, in his pajamas and laying down among several pillows, don Pedro saw a bunch of strangers carrying trunks and invading his living room.

"Ah, _tío_" she stuck her head in through the doorway: "Remember I told you some people were coming over."

"What for?"

"To bring some dresses, it seems. Listen, I'm going to close here, alright?"

"Dresses? Wha-"

Eight trunks, two wooden clothes rack and a full body mirror left almost no room to step a foot in the living room. Finally, an extremely pretty and elegant lady made an entrance:

"You're Josefina then! Great to meet you, darling. I'm Graciela and it looks like we have an enormous deal of work ahead of us."

The first order of business was taking the measurements for the wedding dress. She hadn't had them taken in probably over ten years, when she had her first communion. Doña Graciela and her assistant (the people who'd carried the stuff in had gone out) made Josefina remove her skirt and blouse and measured it all, pretty much eyelashes as well, meticulously writing down every number in the pristine pages of a thick book.

"…we need a long and vaporous veil, such as this one, as you can see, now the lace in this other one is Spaniard and very luxurious, the satin here and the embroidery add a lovely touch, while the fullness in this one mirrors the foam of the ocean, wouldn't you think so? Now, this…"

Standing there half naked, Josefina could hardly focus more than five seconds in any of the charcoal designs they passed and passed in front of her nose.

"I think I would like something a little bit less… excessive". She rescued a sheet that was half hidden among the others: "How about this one?"

"Too simple for my taste, but I recognize its lines are quite pure. It'll become you."

And if Josefina had gotten to think the time to be strip naked had finished, oh was she wrong. Now, dress after dress emerged from the trunks for her to try on: the emerald green, gold yellow, orchid violet and sapphire blue ones. And a hundred more, perhaps. She didn't remember either the last time someone'd helped her get dressed or the last time she'd seen her reflection in a full body mirror. No, she did remember that. There was this one that used to belong to her mother, one with a white base and frame. The images that came to mind about her were mostly blurry, but one of the most recurrent ones was of her sitting on her mom's lap in front of the mirror, the both of them laughing.

Her mother was surely smiling now as well.

(…)

Diego gave a quick read to the note Bernardo had just brought him.

"See, Ricardo wants us to meet at the tavern to sign that contract."

"…"

"You know well Josefina is there, I don't want to cause her trouble with don Theo or anything like that."

"…"  
"No, I don't think so."

"Diego!"

"Ricardo! What a _surprise_."

"I'm ahead of time and ahead of the game as always. I have the papers, let's go to the tavern."

"Yes but-"

"Come on now, I'm in the mood for some wine" and with that, Ricardo headed to the tavern on the other side of the street. Diego had no choice but to follow him with the conviction of signing the blasted paper and head out.

"Damn, I left the copy in the carriage, I'll be back in a minute."

Tough luck. Once in there, all he could do was take a seat at table one, his usual.

(…)

During the previous days, Josefina had noticed several stares on her. Stares followed by whispering, to be more precise, though no one had mentioned anything to her face. What could they say, anyway?

It was late already and there were only few people around, when he showed up at table one, of course.

After seeing him right in that spot, recently arrived from Spain, ready to disrupt her neurons one more time; after he sat there every time and she'd search for him and look at him with her ears, with eyes behind her neck and even with her elbows; after all of that, who could possible guess that she was carrying his engagement ring attached to the chest?

She smiled at him form the distance and more and more with each step:

"Good evening, _señor_."

"Good evening, _señorita_."

"What can I get you?"

It was interesting, this, and weird. Like they both beat down the wall that used to separate them before, in order to traverse to the other side; and still, right now, they're each on their own side again, staring at each other through a gap.

"Nothing, really. I'm just waiting for Ricardo to sign some papers and leave."

Her smile mostly vanished:

"Does it make you uncomfortable to see me here?"

"It makes me uncomfortable that you have to serve me as if we were strangers, when you'll be my wife in no time."

She understood perfectly, but she was trying not to give in. He'd noticed her and liked her not for being a little damsel in distress. She wanted him to know that she'd always be the same girl he fell in love with.

"Diego, you met me here."

"In fact, I met you at the market."

"You know what I mean."

"Besides, I don't want don Theo to tell you off because of me again. I want you to be comfortable, not having to work."

"I don't have to work. I'm doing it because I want to, aren't I?" She finally got him to smile. Despite their difference of opinion, she knew he liked her resolve: "It's just three or four more weeks."

"I surrender to that logic. But if you change your mind, you have just to say it."

He glanced at her bare hand. She placed it on her chest, showed him where the cord peeked out.

"What can I get you?"

"Anything you want."

She liked even the laugh lines on the sides of his eyes. God, how could it be possible to like everything about someone?

"Here" Ricardo dropped the missing papers on the table and dragged along a chair for himself. "Also, you'll have to forgive me, with all of this stuff I forgot to congratulate you. We received the invitation for your engagement party this morning."

"Thanks, I hope you all can come, you and your family."

"We'll be there. By the way, we're curious about something: my father always brags about knowing every family in California, but we don't know where you found this lucky _señorita_ Iglesias. In Spain, maybe?"

"I assure you _I_ am the lucky one. And no, I found her right here in Los Angeles."

"Did you? And where are you hiding her, eh?"

"Excuse me."

Two glasses appeared on the table. Someone filled them with wine.

"Thank you, beautiful."

Diego clenched his teeth. Unfortunately, he knew Ricardo well, who didn't hesitate in ogling her shamelessly as she walked away.

"Can't argue with that; the women in this town are gorgeous and the proof is in the pudding."

"I know, right? As a matter of fact, that's her."

It looked like Ricardo didn't hear well or like someone had just changed the subject:

"Sorry?"

"That's Josefina Iglesias, my fiancée."

"Who?" he asked, looking around.

"Ricardo, I don't see how it can be any clearer, but I'll make an effort: the _señorita _that just brought the wine is my fiancée."

Puzzlement in his face and right then, the burst of laughter.

"And then they say I'm the… I'm the jokester… a girl like that… it's fine to fool around for a while but-"

Any other man would have caused a mess of papers, glass and wine when grabbing someone by the lapels, but Zorro was skillful enough to do it without spilling a drop or making the table wobble an inch.

"Out of respect for your father I'm not going to smash your face in, but if you talk about Josefina that way or stare at her like that ever again, I swear I'll make you regret it."

He let him go with a shove that sent him back into his chair. Josefina had just gone to the storeroom to get something, so she didn't witness the scene.

Diego straightened his jacket and calmly sat back down before a shocked Ricardo.

"Where do I have to sign?"

(…)


	10. Chapter 10: The patio

Chapter X

The patio

The sound of the coach as it approached, his steps, the exact way he knocked on the door: they were already all too familiar for her.

A deep breath before opening the door, an attempt to steady her pulse, which always sped up when he was close.

"_Hola_!" she greeted. He was (was it possible?) even more handsome and tall, wearing a suit she'd never seen him in before.

"Josefina, you're always stunning, but you crossed the line today."

For this night, she'd chosen the emerald green dress with black embroidery. The _peineta_ or hair comb was new as well. The pearls and the ring were the same.

"You think?" she took the sides of the dress's skirt and made a little reverence: "It's beautiful, thank you."

"It is, but not as much as you."

"There's a thing, uncle Pedro is not coming. He hasn't felt too good today and he wants to stay home and rest."

"Should we call a doctor?"

"He doesn't believe in doctors, he says they'll get him killed faster. The last one I brought, he tossed the potty at him. He does want to see you before we leave, though; would you?"

After knocking on the door, Diego received a hoarse _come in!_ as an answer.

"Don Pedro, how are you feeling? You wanted to talk to me?"

"Bring the chair and sit."

He obeyed.

A coughing fit. Not a brief one. He helped him have some water until it subsided. On the nightstand, next to the cup, there was also a jar with some fresh flowers Diego recognized as the same that struggled to survive at the house's porch. It gave him a pang of love in the chest to think that Josefina had picked them up for her uncle.

"I apologize for that. Well then, let's get it over with." The old man wiped his face with a wrinkled kerchief, took in some air several times and began: "In the last years, I've needed Josefina's cares more than she's needed mine. Either way…" he clutched Diego's forearm: "…promise you'll always protect and take care of her."

"I will, of course, you'll see that-"

"I don't have much left to see." Maybe what people say in these cases is _don't say that_ or _everything is going to be fine_. But Diego knew it's better not to lie to a man who knows his fate already. "Treat her right. Even though she tries to hide it, she's a very emotional girl… woman. Caridad used to say that all the time. Look after her. Care for her. Treat her right. Will you do that?"

He didn't have to ponder the question. He'd known the answer for weeks.

"You have my word of honor. My one concern will always be to make her happy."

Don Pedro let go of him and sank again into the pillows.

"Well, leave already. And don't tell her a word about this."

(…)

The music pouring out of the walls of the De la Vega ranch was the first one to welcome them, besides several coaches that were parked outside.

"Ready?"

An attempt at vertigo, but she was able to control it. The important thing here wasn't her absurd fears, but simply being with Diego, to become a part of his life, to celebrate what three months before seemed impossible and was now opening the door to let them in.

"With you, I am."

A multitude of flower garlands, colorful lamps and faces of all ages greeted and expressed their best wishes to them. Distinguished gentlemen, ladies with _mantillas_ and ornamental combs, magistrates, inspectors, the Governor's correspondents, judges, captains and a sergeant (she did know this one). Even Monasterio was invited, also _padre_ Felipe and several friends of aunt Caridad and uncle Pedro. It was all about the introductions, reverences, handshakes among the _señores_, kisses on the back of the hand for the _señoras_, everyone wanted to present their salutations to _the lovely señorita that will soon become la señora De la Vega_. At first, Josefina made her best effort to retain names and last names, but she lost track at the fifth or sixth family and focused on offering her best courtesy phrases and best smile which, truth be told, was coming out naturally. Champagne was poured into the glasses and distributed at an accelerating pace, an elderly gentleman who inquired:

"Do you belong to the Iglesias from Madrid?"

"No, the Iglesias from Monterrey." The man's puzzled face and his wife giving him a nudge.

Josefina had to look away not to laugh.

"Señorita. Diego."

"Ricardo del Amo, welcome."

"Allow me to say I'm really glad you're finally settling down."

"Coming from you, you have no idea how flattered I am."

"You should be and… speaking seriously now, I'd like to apologize for the confusion the other day, I assure you that, at least this time, it wasn't my intention to be a complete jerk."

"I'm sure it wasn't, that comes naturally for you. Grab some champagne and forget about it, will you?" he handed him a glass.

Ricardo wasn't the one to say no to such an offer.

"I really love your dress." This was… Ana? Yes, they called her Anita. "Is it from the ones Doña Graciela brings?"

"Thank you, yours is gorgeous, yes, she helped me pick it."

"She's the best, her taste is exquisite."

"_Señorita_, don Diego, I'd like you to meet _Capitan_ Toledano, from San Diego's Garrison."

"_Capitan_, it's an honor."

"_Señorita_, I'm your servant."

"Thank you, it's a pleasure to meet you, _Capitan_," reverence. Similar exchanges were repeated about three hundred times, alongside trays of appetizers that came and went and emptied out just as quickly.

"_Damas, caballeros_! May I have your attention for just one moment, please?" Don Alejandro had stepped front and center. The musicians kept quiet immediately and the guests surrounded the orator: "First and foremost, I would like to thank you all for being here today on such a special evening. And I would also like to make a toast." Everyone raised their glasses, a lot of them half empty already, but more bottles were being uncorked as he spoke: "To Josefina and Diego. May their life together be prosper and everlasting. May their love always last and may they know how to understand each other at all times. And may everyone enjoy tonight, _salud_!"

"_Salud_!"

Josefina had served gallons and gallons of wine in her life, though had rarely tasted alcohol. The bubbly liquid tickled below her ears and in her throat, as if it had a light of its own.

"So, what do you think?" Diego hadn't left her side for an instant.

"Everything's great."

"I'm glad you like it. And… would you like to dance with me, _señorita_?"

"Umm…" Several couples were stepping up, the musicians prepared their first chords: "I don't think I know how to dance."

"You don't have to know. It's only you and me here."

If he said it, it had to be true.

"All right, I can try."

The guitars started off. The castanets followed along. And she didn't expect this one: it was the song about the _ojos negros,_ black eyes, the same from that time at the tavern. The song that was for her.

Face to face in front of everyone… but it was true: it was only the two of them.

"I know that one."

"You do? Where from?"

"Someone played it and sang it for me."

"Luckiest man in the world, I'm sure."

She had a ready smile but when the music started, Diego noticed her tensing up right away.

"No one else. You and me" he said again in a low voice, very close to her: "Just follow me."

She'd thought that all of the parties and dancing people she'd seen at the tavern would be of use, but it wasn't necessary; and neither was it looking at the others with the corner of her eye, to see how they danced. Everything around them faded away, she could see only his eyes, his lips, felt his hands and his body that led her and she'd let herself go and twirl, in that faraway planet of two inhabitants.

(…)

After the dance and yet another round of canapes, Josefina found herself surrounded by the wives and daughters of three or four _señores_ that, at the same time, had monopolized Diego.

"I was friends with Diego's mother. Imagine, I've known him since he was still in diapers". It was _la señora _Torres: "Allow me to say, dear, you have chosen very well."

"And the ring is so beautiful, may we see it?"

"Ohhh!"

This went on for a while, until someone elbowed her way into the circle and addressed Josefina directly:

"More champagne, please." No one understood a thing. "Oh, forgive me, I mistook you for the help. But no, you're not the help, you're just a gold digger."

Silence. Shocked faces among the ladies, one of them said something to Magdalena, Josefina didn't hear what. The images of this woman dancing with Diego that time, poured inside her head, of him staring at her, who'd grin from ear to ear.

"You're right about the first thing: I've always worked as help, that's no secret for anyone and that's how I've made an honest living." Several other guests had already noticed the incident and were staring with different levels of concealment. But it wasn't necessary to raise her voice: "In the latter, you're wrong. I'm not a gold digger, I'm marrying Diego because I love him and he loves me and you have no business being here so you'd better leave."

Someone suppressed a laugh. Everyone else was open mouthed.

"You have no right to throw me out of here, you're no one!"

"If you haven't noticed, she is the fiancée and daughter in law of the _señores_ of the house, besides being one of the hosts." A gentleman Josefina didn't recognize held Magdalena by an arm: "Let us go, before you continue embarrassing yourself."

"Father! Instead of supporting me, you-"

"Don't make me say it again."

She glared at Josefina before heading out, pushing aside whoever dared to be in her way.

"My sincerest apologies, _señorita_. Alejandro, Diego." Josefina hadn't noticed the two of them had approached: "I'm very sorry my daughter's bad manners caused an uncomfortable moment. So, if you'll excuse me, good night."

Everything that had remained paralyzed, starting by the air, began to come back to life again.

"Good one!" Anita had been the one to cover her mouth with both hands not to laugh: "What a rude and disrespectful woman!"

"That was just terrible…"

"My goodness..."

"Does anybody want more champagne?"

"I know I do."

Josefina felt a tingly wave of heat in the face; she was sure it was redder than a tomato. Someone grabbed her hand:

"Are you all right?"

She nodded.

Everyone else scattered around, some to eat, some to dance.

"Josefina, look at me. Are you all right?"

She finally did.

"I'm fine, Diego. I'd say I put her in her place, didn't I?"

"And in a very elegant and graceful manner, too. May I have this dance?"

"Of course."

(…)

"_Tío_?"

It was almost one in the morning when she took her shoes off and came into the room sweeping the floor with the hem of her dress.

"_Tío_?" she called again in a whisper, but the snores, worthy of a lion, were more than enough proof that uncle Pedro was deep asleep.

She curled up in the reading chair, which was right beside the bed: "I wish you'd been there. Everything was so beautiful. Except for this one idiot, but let's not go there. I missed you… I know you don't like parties but… well. I just wish you'd been there."

For another half an hour or so, she stayed there watching his breathing.

(…)

"So that's what it was, eh?"

At the start of the day, when there was no one at the tavern yet, Josefina always organized the chairs and tables, and cleaned them if necessary. She was working at it, so she didn't see don Theo arrive.

"What was what?"

"What else? That thing. It's dazzling me from the distance; I bet it's more expensive than the entire tavern and its content."

The ring in her hand. She couldn't hide it underneath the blouse anymore and she didn't want to either.

"I'm sorry I hadn't told you, it's-"

"No, I'm the one who owes you an apology. I didn't think… well, I wouldn't have imagined one of my employees would become _la señora _De la Vega."

"To tell the truth, I wouldn't have imagined it either."

"You won't forget about us, will you? You'll come visit?"

"Of course I will. I owe you a lot, don Theo."

"Just tell don Diego he better buy the wine for the wedding here as well."

The first client of the day just arrived. Time to work. Time to serve tables with that ring on. Maybe it was a bit strange, but she didn't care about how much it could cost; the sentimental value was way bigger.

(…)

The patio at the De la Vega ranch had been swept and cleaned, the ornaments and trash had been thrown away, the silver and glassware had been picked up, washed and put in their right shelves, and everything was as it should be, just as if three days before there hadn't been a huge party being celebrated in the same place.

Diego and don Alejandro were having breakfast under a tree, at the wrought iron table. At ten, they had to pick up some documents from the stagecoach and at noon, there was a meeting with another rancher regarding the acquisition of some calves.

Just another day.

Until a horse that came galloping at full speed pulled over outside and a lancer came running.

"Corporal Reyes, what happened?"

They stood up and offered him some water. He rejected it.

"I have… a message from _la_ _señorita _Josefina. It's not good news."

"What is it?"

"It's don Pedro, her uncle. He died during the night."

Diego didn't have to hear another word. He rushed to the stable. Bernardo caught up with him there and less than a minute later and wearing no tie, they were already heading to the town.

Note: for the scene of Josefina entering the party, I took some inspo from a scene in Sofia Coppola's Marie Antoinette, when she arrives to Versailles for the first time; of course it's a different context, but just kind of the idea or feeling. Thanks for reading! And please drop me a review


	11. Chapter 11: The church

Chapter XI

The church

Diego got off the horse, Bernardo would tie it to the post. At the entrance, there was Sargent García and a handful of people, neighbors most likely. They opened the way for him in silence, the soldier lowered his head with a sad look and holding the hat in his hands. It was clear there was nothing left to do.

The narrow living room was murky and it brought back the memory of that afternoon when he sat on that armchair for the first time, in front of a grim faced Don Pedro. Diego started the conversation with the topic of the store and the leather business, then, the subject shifted to horses, acquaintances in common and old times, until the old man asked if beating around the bush was what he'd come for (in those exact words). So, after a lot of elaborating, assuring and reassuring, he got him to lower arms and give him a blessing that was skeptic at first, but still a blessing nonetheless.

That was before. Now, there was no one at the sofas. There were only muffled sobs coming from inside.

Inch by inch, he advanced towards the bedroom. He saw the corner of the bed, the dull colors of the patches that made up the bedspread, a hand and an arm of don Pedro, that lied there inertly. He approached more, didn't want to see his face directly, now he saw Josefina who appeared in the picture as well. Her hair was loose and she was holding her uncle's other hand in between her own.

"I was bringing him a cup of tea" she blurted out as soon as she saw Diego: "He always drinks tea in the morning and I came to bring him some but he wouldn't wake up so I rushed to the doctor's house but he's not in town and and he won't wake up, he-"

It's unconceivable, this, seeing someone you love lying lifeless on a bed. It's a black wall, a dark room, a bottomless well. Something in Josefina wanted to let herself fall and get lost in there, but another part hung on to Diego's embrace like a shipwreck survivor, let his arms hold her, let out the tears of all of her losses: mother, father, aunt, now uncle Pedro. One would think that after all of that you get used to it, but no, it was always like the first time.

"I was bringing him some tea…"

"He knows. He knows you always cared for him lovingly, same way he did with you."

From then on, everything occurred as in a dream, as if she was walking around wearing a steamed up scuba dive helmet. Someone announced that a doctor had to certify the passing, so Bernardo was sent right away to the nearby town to get the physician. There were people coming in and out, the neighbor lady who brought a bowl of soup that got cold next to the cup of tea that was never tried, don Alejandro who arrived a while later, _padre_ Felipe who came to say some prayers. Any other nosy character who'd show up (a few kids several times, looks like the attraction of the day was to go and have a look at the dead one), Diego kicked them out in an instant.

It was midafternoon when the doctor finally made it.

Things kept happening very far away, Josefina's only anchor to this world being Diego's hand holding hers, his presence, constant and certain. At some point of the day, one of the De la Vega's servants arrived, Cresencia, who helped her get into an old, black dress (the same she'd worn when aunt Caridad died) and tamed her hair into a low bun. After that, the casket, the hearse going down the town's streets, the people crossing themselves at the sight of it, a lady about a hundred years old who threw a carnation at it, perhaps not even knowing who the deceased was.

At last she found herself in the church, the coffin was at the center surrounded by lit up bras candlesticks. It puzzled her to see Diego with another suit, a dark grey one, almost black, now with a tie. She spent a while wondering when the change had been, and concluded that maybe Cresencia had brought him the clothes.

The last thing she'd expected was the procession of people that came to express their condolences. Friends of her uncle, neighbors, don Theo, Corporal Reyes and Sargent García. But also people she'd only met at the engagement party: don… what's his name, this other _don_ and his wife, the Torre's, she did remember them; Anita, Magdalena's father, even a Captain or Inspector or whatever he was. Looked like those people were now a part of her life and she was just now realizing of it. She shook hands with each of them, same as Diego and don Alejandro did.

Padre Felipe kept on with his prayers over there.

(…)

The nights of death are strange, just as those of illness. Life and time get distorted and battle against one another. Even more in a deserted church, or almost deserted. Or a sacristy.

"Cresencia's back, she got you this, it's hot." Stewed chicken with rice, soup and coffee. She stared at the viand like she had no clue what that thing was. Diego insisted: "You haven't eaten anything all day. You have to eat something."

"Did you eat?"

"A while ago. You didn't want to, remember?"

"Ah."

"Are you going to eat?"

"Yes."

Memories poured inside her head like a cornucopia of wakes. She recalled her mother's, her aunt's. Her father didn't have one, there was no money for that sort of stuff back then. They tossed him into a mass grave.

After eating, they continued holding the vigil, sitting on the church's rigid benches. Cresencia murmured prayers and offered them tea or coffee from time to time. Bernardo sat somewhere in the back, the priest wouldn't stop praying, don Alejandro would be back in the morning. The smallest movement seemed to cause echo, the smell of incense, dust, wax and wood was omnipresent, and there was Diego by her side, as if he was real and all else was a dream, or vice versa, saying something to her, lending her his silk handkerchief and his shoulder for her to rest her muddled head on.

(…)

Uncle Pedro was buried at ten in the morning. In these cases, it's always an appropriate resource to say that the day was grey, cloudy and rainy, but the truth is that at that time of the day, the sun was shining intensely in the blue sky. More condolences, more people (some, she remembered; some, not), a flower she let fall in between the shovelfuls of earth that were covering and covering the uncle that was leaving forever, the same that went to pick her up in Monterrey when she was fourteen years old and she'd been sleeping on a cot at the convent's kitchen, since there was no place for her anywhere else. When they were sticking the cross with his name to the ground, if Diego hadn't been holding her, she'd have fallen apart.

And now the house was a large and hollow cave.

When they arrived, Josefina went straight to sit on the couch. She got back on her feet right away:

"What should I do with his things? Should I leave them there? What do you think?"

"I think it's too soon to think about that, you should just rest now."

"He never wanted to throw away aunt Cari's things, it's all there but I don't know if I should do the same. It's all there, all of his things, _their_ things-"

"Josefina, you have to sleep now. Cresencia is outside, she'll stay with you."

"What for?"

"To help you around so you can rest."

Then her eyes widened as if she'd realized of something:

"Diego! Everyone has died, my parents, my aunt, everyone's dead. If-" A wave of sobbing choked her; she held onto his arms: "If something happens to you-"

"No. No, no, no." He held her: "That won't happen. Don't think about that, 'cause it'll never happen."

When she was able to speak again, she asked: "You promise?"

"I swear. You and I will see grandchildren and great grandchildren, the two of us together."

All of the things _El Zorro _did on a daily basis flashed before her eyes (the most recent of them, only a couple days before): dodging bullets, running around the rooftops, jumping from a horse to a coach at high speed, facing delinquents and authorities alike. And she was more afraid. But no. If she swore it, it had to be true. If he just said it, it was true. If he held her like this, everything would be all right.

(…)

The globe was made of wood and something that seemed to be ivory and probably was. The countries and kingdoms were bordered by red, green or blue dotted lines, with a fantastic dragon, elephant or giant turtle emerging from some point in the ocean.

"Where would you like to go?"

Josefina didn't know he´d been staring at her for a while from the library's entrance. Always the stealthy one, even as Diego.

"My grandfather was born in Spain." Over nations and seas she ran her index finger until she found it; there it was, a bunch diminutive letters, rivers and mountain ranges: "Uncle Pedro always told the story of going there to visit, when he and my mother where little. That the Mediterranean Sea is very big and… that everything smelled like jasmine and olives, that's what he used to say, but maybe he was exaggerating."

"Then we'll have to go there and check if it's true or not. On a honeymoon."

"Are you serious?"

"It was supposed to be a surprise but since we're postponing the wedding, I wanted you to know already."

It was the eighth day of uncle Pedro's novena. He was still fresh in his tomb, so it made her feel a bit guilty to be talking about wedding and honeymoon. He always used to say, though: _let the dead bury their dead._ She chuckled on the inside only to imagine him sitting comfortably on a cloud, telling her _quit the nonsense and marry already. Not because of a postponed wedding am I going to dance my way out of the casket_.

"Maybe we don't have to wait two more months. How about just a month? We don't have to make a big party, it can be something small."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I am. I'm marrying _you,_ I'm not marrying the party. We can do without it."

"It is set then."

A kiss, the first one since the mourning period began.

"I don't know if I've… thanked you."

"There isn't a thing you have to thank me for."

"He didn't have a spot at the cemetery, let alone to cover the expenses of… anything. You took care of that, didn't you?"

"…"

"Thank you Diego, I-"

"No. You thank a favor. That wasn't a favor, it's what people do for their loved ones."

"And thank-you" she covered his mouth with both hands: "for being with me in all of this. I can't imagine having been… or being without you."

"Would you stop giving thanks, _señorita_?"

"Then what if I say that… I love you?"

"That's better."

Lunch was ready, Bernardo came to inform. After that, there was the mass and not work at the tavern anymore. The days off for mourning and marriage overlapped, and then, the resignation already.

(…)

If the first time he'd taken her to the cliff there had been a million stars, this night they had multiplied by a thousand. The air was neither too cool nor too warm; the sandy soil, with the shawl folded as a pillow, was actually comfortable.

"…that other one is Cassiopeia: one, two, three, four, five" Diego pointed at then, tracing the shape of an extended M: "They use it to find the north when the Great Bear is not visible. Which is… right there: the legs… the head, the tail… you see it?"

"It looks like a piano to me."

"Yes, it could be, but there weren't any pianos when they named it."

His own forearm served as a pillow. A long time he'd spent in Spain studying Astronomy in huge books or glued to a telescope, and sometimes he still did it. But years had gone by, maybe even since he was a teenager, that he hadn't just lied on the ground to see the firmament.

"When were they named?"

"Hundreds of years ago, even thousands."

"By the Greek?"

"Exactly."

If she fixed her eyes on a certain star for a long time, it seemed to vanish. She had to look away and then focus on it again for it to reappear: "One day those people were just like this, looking at the stars. And now they're all dead."

"They're not. They live. In the names of the constellations, for example." He interlocked his fingers with hers: "They'll live there forever. They're _immortal_."

"So are we, right? Just now."

They were. That little while at the cliff might be short compared to the age of the Earth or the Universe; nevertheless, in the nothingness of space, the eternal of time and the inevitable of death, it spanned it all and it was all there was.

He approached and kissed her.

For her, the sky, constellations and all, started to spin above their heads, like a whirlwind that tossed them into a void where there was no up or down, no rhyme or reason, but it was sweet, overwhelming, infinite.

She felt his hand on her waist.

And felt her legs dissolve.

Then he stopped kissing her and let go. She felt two, three breathings of his, very close, before he said:

"We should-"

"-go back" she finished the sentence.

Truth be told, she didn't want to go but it was… better. Only one more day to be his wife. A whole day, plus few hours.

He helped her up. Tornado would take them back into town, he'd drop her home and good night.

(…)

The living room was more illuminated than usual, thanks to three or four extra lamps. Doña Graciela and her assistant had been joined by Anita, who was already in her pink tulle dress and was popping almonds on the couch.

"Just a little more here… there we go. Take a look at yourself."

"Oh!" Anita exclaimed: "You look so pretty!"

She'd tried it on a couple times before, but it had yet to be shortened here, lengthened there, fixed on that side. This was the final version and it suited her perfectly, discreet and pretty at the same time, just like her makeup and hairdo. She hadn't wanted to look ostentatious, but… like herself: happy.

And that's exactly what she saw on the mirror.

It was too much, it was the day, it was too good to be true, it was true… it was time.

She was twirling in front of the mirror (and Anita clapping) when someone knocked on the door.

"_Hija_, you look stunning." It was don Theo in his Sunday suit. He'd walk her down the aisle. "Should we go now?"

"Wait." Doña Graciela touched up the lipstick: "Now we're good."

One last look in the mirror. The next one she'd see like this, face to face, would be Diego.

(…)

Note: I don't know about constellations, I just googled a bit, so sorry if you can't really see the ones Diego mentioned at the same. What do you think of this chappie? Thanks for reading!


	12. Chapter 12: The altar

Chapter XII

The altar

"I still can't decide what surprised me the most: learning you were Zorro, or that you wanted to get married."

Don Alejandro came into his son's bedroom right when Bernardo was helping him put on the Spanish jacket.

"Trust me, father, I was the surprised one, when I met Josefina."

A tailor made suit. Only the tie was left.

He recalled the very particular game Diego used to have when he was a little boy; it was called _let us fight for justice_. It mainly consisted on jumping from armchair to armchair, tree to tree or balcony to balcony, wielding a wooden sword against who knows how many imaginary enemies.

They weren't imaginary anymore. And neither was he a boy.

And he also remembered…

"The day I married your mother I considered myself the most fortunate man in the world." The tie was good to go. Father and son were face to face: "I see in your eyes you feel the same way. And if there's one advice I can give you, my son, is to never let a day go by without remembering that."

"Even though I have no memories of my mother being alive, I know I have the best example in the two of you. Thank you."

One of those hugs with pats on the back.

"Well, I'm not going to get all sentimental in this old age. Let's get going."

(…)

Josefina's stare was fixed on the bouquet she held on her lap; she detailed each white petal, each center of yellow dots, each one of the daisies' green stems. Doña Graciela had offered her one of Dutch tulips, but she preferred to pick up her own flowers and make her own bride's bouquet with a little help from Anita, who was sitting by her side, in the coach's inner part. At the front there was don Theo and a _vaquero_ from the ranch they'd sent to drive them.

With a whistle and a flick of the reins, off they went.

(…)

The few and handpicked guests received Diego at the entrance of the Mision's church. The Torres's and their daughter, Elena. Anita's father, Sergeant García, Ricardo del Campo with his parents and fiancée. Don Alfredo and his wife, and Pepe, in a suit that seemed to be a bit oversized for him. That was it, but it was more than enough: true friends.

"You're still on time to run away, eh?" Ricardo greeted him. His girlfriend smacked him in the shoulder with a fan.

"Let's take no notice of that comment" she said: "Everything is beautiful, Diego."

"Thank you, Leonor. And thanks for the well timed advice, my good friend."

Minutes later, everyone stepped in.

(…)

It was hot inside the swaying coach. Every now and then, Anita tapped Josefina's forehead with a handkerchief; she almost didn't register that. Through a gap, she was seeing trees and houses pass by. Every little thing was so real, it was almost unreal.

"Are you nervous?"

"No, not nervous… well… yes. I'm… I think I'm going to faint."

"No! Don't faint in here, please. Would you like some nuts?" She'd smuggled some in an inner pocket of her dress.

"No, the last thing I want to do right now is eat."

"Just take a deep breath" her friend advised, and after chewing some almonds: "Besides, calm down, there's the other thing later on."

"What other thing?"

"The _other_ thing! What doña Graciela explained us, the wedding night and-"

"Shhhhh!"

"They can't hear us!" Don Theo and the other man were on the outer side, chatting: "You know what she said, the first time-"

"ANITA!"

What little road was left, they spent it laughing.

(…)

"It feels like it was yesterday… no, this very morning, when you came along and asked me for permission to meet Josefina here."

_Padre _Felipe had his cassock for special days and a little booklet in between his hands.

"I don't know if I ever thanked you for that, father, and in any case, I'd like to do it again: thank you for helping us get to this day."

"I'm glad I wasn't wrong about you."

The people were waiting at the benches. Diego, next to the altar.

(…)

Don Theo offered his hand for her to get off the coach. Anita straightened out the veil. Josefina wasn't hot anymore, she felt herself float (seized to the ground only by her former boss's arm) over the path of white petals and flowers that went through the Mision's central patio and reached the gates of the little church, a chapel pretty much. The town's church was bigger and nicer looking, but it made more sense to be here. To step so close to the fountain where they met that time, to reminiscence how she was making her way there and when the bells chimed announcing the appointed time, she hid behind a tree like a mouse.

They took one, the two steps of the entrance.

"You know Pedro was a good friend of mine" don Theo told her: "and even if I wish it were him who could be here, it's an honor for me to walk you down the aisle."

Josefina only nodded several times, lips pursed. If she tried to say a word, she knew she'd burst into crying.

(…)

_Breathe. _

_ Look at him. He's right there, waiting for you. _

_ There are people. _

_ Well I don't see anyone, I only see him, I see his smile, I'd see it a mile away. _

_ Of course you see him, he's taller than everybody else here. _

_ I see his eyes looking at me. Look at the way he looks at me. _

_ Why are you narrating everything?_

_ I'm not narrating everything, I'm not even thinking, I'm just perceiving. Look at him. _

_ Don't cry. _

_ It's alright to cry. If you want to cry, cry. _

_ I don't want to, but I don't know how to-_

_ We smile at each other. We laugh. Cry, laugh, do whatever you want, but look at him. _

_ I am looking at him. _

_ I love him. I feel like I'm dying of how much I love him. _

_ He loves you too. _

_ Yes, I always told you. _

_ Not always. _

_ We're here. _

_ What should I do now?_

_ I don't know. You just… look at him_.

(…)

They shook hands, don Theo and Diego. Then, he took hers and kissed it, looking at her in the eye (just like that time, the first time).

"You're beautiful" he pronounced without a sound: "I love you."

"I love you" she said in silence as well: "No matter what."

"No matter what."

"Dearly beloved, we have come together in the house of the Lord to join Josefina and Diego in holy matrimony, a sacrament which…"

Something happened to her all of a sudden. The nervousness and excitement she was feeling, not butterflies but a troop of horses galloping in her chest, transfigured into a sort of joyful calm. It was unexpected, but she was aware of the change. The two tears that had poured out, one at each side, dried up on her cheeks.

"Josefina and Diego, have you come here to enter into marriage without coercion, freely and wholeheartedly?"

"I have", they both replied.

"Are you sure? I saw a couple of tears there."

_Ah, padre Felipe! You even helped us out, come on. _

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Very well."

The priest asked a few other things. Josefina wanted to record in her mind every word, every image, every invisible speck of dust suspended in thin air. There was no better way than living it.

"I, Diego, take you, Josefina, for my lawful wife…"

She was listening to him.

A million times she dreamed it.

"I, Josefina, take you, Diego, for my lawful husband and I promise to be faithful to you, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love you and to honor you all the days of my life, until death do us part."

All the days and more.

"…and bring to fulfillment his blessings with you. This matrimony between you I confirm in the name of the Father-"

An infinite instant…

"-the Son-"

…before, now and forever…

"-and the Holy Ghost, amen."

…no matter what.

"What God has joined, let no one put asunder. Amen. What I'm about to say now it's technically not a part of the rite but, oh well. You may kiss your wife."

The kisses at the window, at the cliff, the furtive ones at the library, they all combined together into this one kiss.

Only one thing left.

Anita gave Pepe a little nudge, who stepped forward with the rings.

"Josefina, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity."

"Diego, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity."

An excited serenity, it could be called, when seeing the hands of the both of them, hers on his.

No matter what.

(…)

They invited Bernardo to sit at the table with them. Today, he was more friend than servant. He refused at first but (and since the guests were around) Diego insisted with a bunch of signs and gestures that really had no purpose, as he could hear things even better than most people. When Josefina showed him the seat reserved for him, he had no choice but to take it, right next to Sergeant García by the way, who had already tucked the napkin into his collar like a bib, even before the baskets with garlic and parsley bread arrived (he ate three all by himself. Hampers, that is). On the other hand and as soon as he could, Pepe got rid of that borrowed jacket that was so uncomfortable and occupied himself with asking for sweets from the maids that distributed the drinks. Ricardo wouldn't give back her fan to Leonor, with which he'd already been attacked several times (each of them well deserved), all the while don Campillo and don Torres debated about whether the wine from Los Angeles or from Monterrey was the best; don Theo settled the argument by announcing the best wine could be found at his tavern and surrounded by good friends.

The smell of roast calf was in the air already, but before, a toast:

"I would like to thank you all for being here. Perhaps we're not bonded by blood, but each one of you is like family. I would also like to say…" El Zorro in don Diego costume, the Diego people knew, was eloquent, always had a reply for everything. However, that doesn't mean he was very used to talk about feelings in public. But today was another story. There was no costume at all, not in front of her, and that's what mattered: "…that the best thing that has happened to me in this life was, one day and by chance, meeting Josefina, my now wife. That sounds good, _my wife_." Pepe was the only one not paying attention, busy as he was with the wooden toy Bernardo had lent him: "And the best decision I've ever made was knocking on her uncle's door, talking to him and ask for his niece's hand. As you all know, don Pedro is not with us physically anymore. But wherever he is, I'd like to say to him, with all of you as witnesses, that I will always love, respect and care for his niece. To don Pedro."

Her uncle used to love apple wine, maybe it was a coincidence that they were toasting precisely with it.

The food arrived, there was no room left on the table (in fact two long tables that had been put together underneath the table cloth) for any more trays, platters, plates and glasses. The brief solemnity that had been installed in the room with the toast, was soon enough replaced by new conversations, opinions and laughter.

"Thanks for that" Josefina told him in a low voice.

"What did we say about saying thank you?"

"_You_ said that, I didn't."

One of those smiles that mesmerized her: "_That _is my wife."

More food kept appearing until no one could fit another bite. Except for the Sergeant. Even Pepe gave him the last pieces of cake he had managed to hoard.

(…)

Everyone left after dinner, even don Alejandro, who had a business meeting first thing the next morning and had to travel during the night. Fortunately. Even the help was nowhere to be seen, the dishes and left over food would be picked up the following day.

The north wing of the house, connected to the main part by a staircase, would be for them once they'd get back from Spain, but for today… she'd never seen this hall, let alone walk down it and more than let alone, entered his bedroom.

It gave her a void in the stomach to see the three half full trunks for their trip, the desk with its large chair and writing supplies: paper, quill, inkwell; a small mirror on the wall and a picture frame of a landscape she didn't recognize, maybe from Spain; a coat stand, a bulky closet, the arabesques rug, the bed with a canopy of thick curtains. Diego was in all of it, in each thing, it was like discovering something more about him. It might sound silly because they were only objects, but they were part of his life. They'd been there when he wrote a letter, when he read, played the guitar or prepared his Zorro plans. And now she was there as well.

What should she do now? Start a conversation, laugh nervously? This last one was easy to do, but she kept herself from it. Doña Graciela's advices and explanations popped up in droves in her mind, with Anita's laughter as a background, but she decided to throw all of that stuff away, at least for the moment. She loved him; she was his wife now, in the eyes of men and of God, what the hell did she have to overthink or worry.

"Does it bother you?" What did he mean? "That."

Ah, the veil still hanging from her head. In fact, yes. They had secured it from her hair with three metallic hairpins, and at this hour of the day, they were already stabbing her in the scalp. She'd tried to lose them up several times, with no success.

"A little."

"Can I help?"

She nodded. Diego placed himself behind her and had a look:

"Hairdressing isn't one of my strong points but I'll give it a try."

She felt his hands close to her neck, close to her ears, so gently.

One by one, the hairpins and veil were out.

"Better?"

"Better."

She turned around and looked at him.

He looked at the ceiling:

"Look."

"What?"

Just the ceiling.

"They're so clear from here." She kept on scrutinizing the tiles: "There must be about a million, don't you think?"

"A million what?"

"Stars. Don't you want to lie down and look at them?"

Ah, the nervous laughter made its appearance after all. But actually, not so nervous.

"Yes."

He picked her up by the waist and helped her up, since the bed was a tad high.

More (only slightly) nervous laughter. Not even after gobbling down all of the tavern's wine at once, would she have ever imagined she'd be lying down on Diego de la Vega's bed.

It was very cozy.

He went to lie on the other side.

Then took her hand, fingers interlocked.

"Can you see it? The Great Bear also known as the Great Piano. The piano's legs, the soundboard, it's all clearly there."

"And that's… Cassiopeia:" she pointed up: "One, two, three, four, five. Like an _M_."

They stared at them for a little while, at the stars.

Then at each other.

"Do you know how much I love you?"

She knew, but it doesn't hurt to hear it forever:

"And I love _you_."

He leaned in closer and kissed her.

This time, there was no reason to stop.

(…)

Josefina emerged from the living room's cupboard. She closed the fake door that held the shelves with the bronze cup and the silver cow, and then the outer, regular door. She checked it several times, opening and closing it again, to make sure everything was in order.

The living room was deserted. Everything had been cleaned up and organized after the previous night's celebration. The kitchen had to be that way, to the left, so she headed there, walking slowly and staring at every little thing around.

An Asian vase, a Swiss clock, a crystal statuette; it was like a museum, not that she'd ever been to one. At the bottom of the hall, a door. It had to be there.

Bernardo had arrived during lunch, first of all excusing himself, then informing Diego of something he'd been waiting for weeks: the children of a rancher were on their way to the town in a stagecoach, with the particularity that this man had be threatened: either he paid a certain amount to some alleged bandits, or his family would pay the consequences. Diego didn't know and neither was he interested in the _vaccine_ being paid or not: he'd make sure the boys made it safely.

Josefina heard all of this at the table, not as a guest anymore but certainly with a heart on edge. One thing was going on a stroll around the hills with Zorro and hear about his feats from the patrons; a whole different story was seeing the man she loved with a mask and the foil onto the belt, kissing her goodbye before getting on Tornado and promising he'd be back by dinner time, before taking off through the cave, whose existence by the way she had just learnt of this day.

That's why knowing that the next day they'd leave for a few months was a relieve: going away, not worrying about it for a while at least. Of course she supported him in what he did, she always would, but… would she feel this way every time, with that constant fear in the middle of her chest, that wouldn't go away until he'd come back?

The kitchen was bigger than her whole former home. She rummaged through some baskets and cupboards; no, not there.

"_Señora_! What are you doing around here?"

_Señora_. They called her _señora_ now! Well she was: _señora_ De la Vega.

_Wow. _

"Cresencia, I wanted to make some tea but I can't find the-"

"_Señora_, for anything you need, you just have to tell me or tell Bernardo, Jacinta or one of the others, and we'll get it for you. Would you like chamomile, mint, hibiscus, green, red, black or white tea?"

"Eh… mint would be good, thank you."

"Sugar or honey?"

"Honey, thanks."

"Milk?"

"No, it's fine, thank you."

"Would you like some crackers?"

"Sure, thanks."

"Where to?"

"Sorry?"

"Should I take it to your bedroom, the living room…?"

"Ah… the library please. And thank you."

Plenty of features to be considered for a cup of tea.

(…)

The cup was already empty. She was on the third page of a book about the museums of Spain. She should be on the twentieth at least, but it was hard to focus. On one side, she couldn't stop thinking about the previous day… and night, in waking up next to him that morning… and on the other diametrically opposed side, it worried her that… she was being ridiculous, for sure: everyone knew Zorro had never been defeated, he always evaded bandits and soldiers alike. That was her Diego. Nothing bad could happen to him. Nothing. Zorro was _immortal_.

As soon as Bernardo stormed in and she saw his terrified face, she knew it.

"What happened?"

He was making a hundred signs at the same time. She could only discern the Z drawn up in the air and his right hand closing on his left wrist, over and over again.

"Bernardo, write on this, will you? What-"

"_Señora_!" One of don Alejandro's most trusted _vaqueros_ rushed into the library: "I'm so sorry to come in like this but… but…"

"But what? Please speak."

The man nervously clutched the hat in his hands:

"It's, people are saying they captured Zorro and that… well… it seems that… I know it's impossible, but they're saying it's don Diego."

(…)

Notes:

\- Doña Graciela offered Josefina a bouquet of Dutch tulips. Was that possible back then, with no refrigeration? Who knows! Maybe it was, or maybe they could bring the seeds and plant them in the New World (I always worry about this kind of details).

\- I don't know if the wedding part was too long, the part about the rite and all of that. But I wanted to make them say those things. The afternoon I wrote that scene I was almost crying, in fact I did tear up a bit, like people do in weddings.

\- I don't know if it's realistic for a priest to crack a couple of jokes in a wedding in the 1820's. But well, this is fanfiction.

\- I liked the idea of Bernardo being a guest at the celebration and not a servant. Again, I don't know if it's realistic, but I liked it.

\- Thanks for reading!


	13. Chapter 13: The Cuartel

Chapter XIII

The Cuartel

Josefina's mind went blank. Everything around turned into a dark white nothingness, an empty and deafening silence.

_No. _

_ He was captured. _

_ No. _

_ What…?_

"That is… crazy, Jose, what do you mean they captured… what, el Zorro? Diego isn't…"

"I know, _señora_, but it seems, imagine, people are saying they want to hang him at dawn."

"_Señora_!" Josefina flinched when Cresencia suddenly showed up to join the small ring of horrified faces that surrounded her: "Did you hear the news? This can't be possible! What are we going to do?"

_What are we going to do. _

_ I don't know. _

_ We have to do something. _

_ What?_

_ Don Alejandro isn't home, let alone Diego. You're the only one left. _

_ Me?_

_ My God_.

Fear had paralyzed her. It was time to shake it off.

"Cresencia, please tell everyone else to calm down and not to exchange rumors with people from other ranches. Diego is innocent, this is a misunderstanding."

The maid, who more than once had patched up Diego's scraped knees when he was a child, wiped her eyes with her apron and straightened up:

"_Sí,_ _señora_."

"Let's go."

The other two followed her towards the stables. Josefina walked and all she could see was a fixed point in front of her, which was her husband's face and the still uncertain way to help him.

"Jose, please… go to don Alejandro's closest friends: don Alfredo, the Torres, the Del Amo too. They know people and have influence and they're going to fix this."

"Right away, _señora_."

The man practically leaped on a horse and left, leaving a cloud of dust behind.

Bernardo was preparing the coach, but she stopped him:

"No, we have to go as fast as possible."

She hadn't ridden a horse by herself in a while, but she knew that what she'd learnt with her father ages ago, would be helpful.

They were out of the ranch already when she had a better idea:

"Bernardo, it's better if you go find don Alejandro. He's at Santa Rita, right?"

"…"

"I can go by myself."

"He could fix this. Please go get him."

El Zorro's faithful helper didn't like the idea of letting his _patron_'s wife go all by herself through those dark roads and right into the lion's den, but he knew she was right. Also, it's not like he could have helped her a lot once there.

"It'll be all right."

Bernardo nodded and adjusted his hat.

They exchanged one last sad look before heading down opposite directions.

(...)

There were only few people scattered on the town's murky streets. Josefina got off the horse as best as she could and tied it up. The _cuartel_'s gates seemed to be a mile high, as she approached with a resolute walk and sweaty hands. This wasn't the same sort of tension or anxiety that is experimented when meeting a father in law or when dancing in front of a bunch of strangers. This was a primitive and deadly fear, a thing like a skeletal paw that squeezed her throat and sank its fingers on her neck.

"_Señorita_… I mean, _señora_, good afternoon." Sergeant García was visibly afflicted.

"Nothing good about it, _Sargento_. I heard you're keeping my husband in here."

"Uh, that's right, you'll see, we-"

"Could you please take me to _Capitán_ Monasterio?"

The soldier reflected on it for few moments:

"_Sí_. But to be honest… I don't think there's much anyone can do for don Diego."

_Get angry._

_Get outraged. _

_ Fight. _

_That, I can do. _

"How can you say that? What madness is this?" They went inside. There were lancers all over the place, at each balcony, window, roof and door. She decided not to look at them. "You know Diego, you're friends, you know it's impossible that he could be… what they say he is."

"I'm sorry, _señora_. The _Capitán_ had been watching don Diego for weeks, even at your engagement party. He prepared the plan to capture him today. I kept on telling him don Diego didn't even know how to hold a foil but… when they took his mask off…" Josefina felt a fist on her stomach when hearing this: "I saw it with my own two eyes: don Diego _is_ Zorro."

_Get angry._

_Get outraged. _

_Fight._

"Oh, really? Well this has to be some kind of trap, someone trying to involve him in something that makes no sense at all."

"I wish that were true, and I know it's a tough surprise for you but-"

"Don't waste your breath, Sergeant." Monasterio opened up the door when they hadn't even knocked: "Something tells me this is no surprise for _la señora_ De la Vega."

_Fight. _

"May I come in?"

The _Capitán_ opened the way with a reverence. The Sargeant had to stay outside.

"Where are you keeping my husband? I didn't see him in the cells."

"_Señora_, you have no right to come in here and question me. However, since I'm a gentleman, I'll answer: De la Vega is being kept in a high security cell, exclusively prepared for Zorro. It's almost an honor to use it for the first time, I'd say."

_Argue. _

_Fight._

"You have no idea what huge mistake you're making. Diego is no Zorro, and when the _rancheros_ inform the Governor about this arbitrariness-"

"Do not attempt to threaten me or take me for a fool, _señora_." Josefina didn't blink. Monasterio, a head taller, went on: "I will never understand how no one else had noticed what was obvious to me. De la Vega would always vanish in thin air right before Zorro showed up, and once he was gone, your brand-new husband would appear in some corner with a book on one hand and some fantastic excuse on the other."

"That's not enough to-"

"But of course not! What do you say about unmasking him with over thirty soldiers as witnesses? Is that enough?"

_Fight._

_Fight._

_Fi…_

"And what do you say about this?" He pulled out some papers out of a drawer of his desk and dangled them in front of her face.

"Read." She shoved them aside. "As you wish. Let's see: Graduate with honors at the Spanish University of Military Arts, Diploma for Academic Excellence at the Fencing Academy of Madrid, first place in five, ten, fifteen, no, _seventeen_ different tournaments, not one second or third place, if I may add. Training in equestrianism-"

"None of that proves-"

"-and use of different weapons such as firearms, spear, javelin, even archery, _señora!_ There's only one missing diploma here, and it's that of the acting school. De la Vega may have been able to fool the idiots, but not me. I always knew behind that façade there was an outlaw, a thief and a traitor to the Spanish Crown, and that's why tomorrow at dawn he'll be hung and the town of Los Angeles and all of California will be free from his crimes once and for all."

There was no air. Not possible to breathe.

She was asphyxiating.

_Fi… fight…_

"You… can't do that. There has to be a trial."

"I'm pleased to inform you're wrong. The law says it, when a criminal of this kind is captured in flagrante."

"Diego is not a criminal!"

Monasterio gave her a malevolent smile. He went back to his desk, pulled out a cigar and lit it.

"And you?"

"What about me?"

He took a long puff and let the smoke slowly out:

"Are you? You should know that being a criminal's accomplice makes you one as well."

"I can't be an accomplice of something that's not true or real! Diego is innocent, those papers must be fake and all of this is you wanting a scapegoat to make the Governor believe you actually do anything useful at all."

Another puff of smoke:

"I admire your loyalty, _señora_; that, I must recognize. But if you don't want to join your husband at the gallows, you'd better start telling me who the other accomplices are. The deaf-mute servant, perhaps?"

"There are no accomplices because there is no crime. Diego would never-"

Funny how the both of them stayed paralyzed for a couple of seconds, just like a cat and a mouse facing each other, as a commotion arose outside.

"What in the-"

They both heard it, too: some lancer's voice, louder than the rest:

"He's getting away! El Zorro's getting away!"

Monasterio grabbed the pistol he always carried in his belt and reached the door in two strides, but before he had the chance to twist the knob, two rather skinny arms hung on to his neck and face, like a cat or an octopus would.

"Get off of me!" he roared, but she wouldn't have, not even if she had a canyon pointed at her. She poked his eyes, pulled his hair, scratched his face with nails and ring too, kicked him and would have bitten a good part of his ear off if he hadn't managed to free himself and toss her against the wall like a recently gutted fish.

"You'll pay for this-"

He hadn't finished talking when two gunshots were heard, followed by more uproar, more yelling.

The_ Capitán _slammed the door shut behind his back.

Josefina didn't move. She wasn't registering the pain she might have from her fall. All she did was try to hear a coherent word above the noise outside, a clue that would tell her those bullets hadn't reached Diego.

_God…_

…_God…_

She wasn't able to put together any other word. She started to cry the tears that had been accumulating, ever since Bernardo came in through the library's doorway.

About a century went by until Monasterio appeared again, a bleeding scratch on his forehead, mad as a bull and cursing left and right, not that the presence of a lady mattered to him at all in this moment.

He was followed by Sergeant García…

"_Señora!"_

…and don Alfredo:

"_Jesucristo_! What have you done to _la señora_ De la Vega, Monasterio?" They helped her up, each one by an arm: "This is the last straw, you have lost your mind, I will see that you never use that uniform you're undeserving of and-"

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!"

"YOU shut your mouth, you villain! You've gone too far this time, defaming an innocent man and mistreating his wife."

The _Capitán _didn't even pay attention to him:

"Sergeant García!" The soldier let go off Josefina and stood to attention: "Round up all, do you hear me, ALL of the lancers for a search starting right this second, I myself will be in the vanguard. We'll comb all of the town and lands around. There shall be not a rat hole we don't check or a rock we don't lift. He can't go far wounded and by foot."

_Wounded. _

_Wounded. _

_Wounded. _

_God_…

"Yes, _Capitán… Capitán_?"

"What the hell is it?! Is something not clear enough?"

"No, Capitán, everything's clear. It's just that…"

"WHAT?"

"It's just that don Diego, or, that is, Zorro… he managed to take his horse. So he's not really on foot."

Monasterio seethed in anger, throwing another rain of insults on the Sergeant, crowned with a:

"I'll get you executed for this!"

He snatched a musket and another pistol from under his desk:

"What the devil are you waiting for?"

"Yes, _Comandante_, I mean, nothing, _Comandante_."

And they both left.

The ones who stayed heard the soldiers and horses leave with a racket of hooves and orders yelled all over the place.

"Are you all right?" Don Alfredo was still holding her by an arm.

"Diego's hurt?"

"As far as I could hear, he got shot in the arm or shoulder."

_God._

_Arm or shoulder. _

_That heals…_

_Right?_

"Are you all right?" he asked again.

"Yes."

"Please allow me to take you home."

"No!" she moved away: "I have to stay."

"What for? There's nothing to do here."

"I do more here than in the ranch. I'll wait for them to get to back. They're not going to get him, I swear."

Don Alfredo knew it was pointless to insist. In the eyes of that young girl who more than once had served him lunch or a glass of wine at the tavern, he saw a boiling mixture of anger, resolve, fear and even triumph.

"I swear. They're not going to get him" she repeated.

(…)


	14. Chapter 14: The market

Chapter XIV

The market

When she realized it was starting to get clear outside, two ideas got stuck inside Josefina's mind: one, at that hour, the trunks should already be on the chariot, as she and Diego said goodbye to Bernardo and Cresencia, to then head to the port and take the ship to Spain for their dreamy honeymoon; and two, at that hour, they could also be taking him to the gallows, which didn't happen, so the disappointment of the former lost relevance in the face of the relief of the latter. Another dawn, some more hours for him to stay alive, to hide somewhere, as these other people solve things out. Because there had to be some solution, some contact to go to, a string these gentlemen could pull. Otherwise, they wouldn't be here.

Don Alfredo, don Torres and señores Del Amo (father and son), besides other two that were at the party but whose names she couldn't recall. Some arrived first and others later, at nine, ten, the last one at midnight, and they'd stayed all night talking gravely among each other, in silence, or smoking at times. It couldn't be said, it's true, that the De la Vega didn't have good friends.

"Would you like some?" Don Alfredo came to sit by her side. He offered her another cup of coffee. Everyone had settled at the Comandante's office, paying no mind at what he could say about it.

"_Gracias_."

Coffee is supposed to make you more alert, but in reality, it had her in a feverish state that numbed her senses.

"Josefina, there's something I must ask." He glanced at the others before continuing in a low voice: "And I'm asking it because, if there's any chance we can get Diego out of this, we must know the truth. It's not a slander, trap or conspiracy, is it? He has been Zorro all this time… hasn't he?"

The coffee was strong and sugarless. She drank it in one sip to gather strength.

"I know just as much you gentlemen do."

Don Alfredo wasn't quite convinced:

"I need you to trust us, we want to help."

She didn't doubt it. But unless it was absolutely necessary, she'd take it to the grave.

"I'm sorry. That's all I know."

Another hour went by until the sudden trot of the horses made everyone get on their feet.

_They couldn't have captured him. _

_If they did, they'll hang him right away. _

_But… no! He's Zorro, ¡he's Diego! He can do it all. He's skilled, he's resourceful, he's intelligent, he must be in New York by now._

_That far away? When will you see him again?_

_I'll worry about that later on. For the moment, I just need him to be alive_.

She could finally breathe again, when Monasterio pushed the door open and stormed in looking like a dog with rabies that hasn't eaten or slept in three days.

_They didn't get him. _

_Thank you, Lord_.

Don Del Amo and one of the others, both of them lawyers, were allowed to stay to discuss the situation. The rest of them got kicked out of the garrison, almost literally.

A while later, they came to join the others on the street:

"I don't like the looks of this" Ricardo's father recognized: "For starters, there seems to be no doubt: Diego _is _Zorro, we have no means to argue that someone's tried to incriminate him unjustly. Secondly, his escaping last night has confirmed it even more and-"

"Excuse me, _señor_" the only female voice of the group spoke: "What was he supposed to do, wait to be taken to the gallows? Monasterio himself told me there'd be no trial."

"Listen, _señora,_ what's done, is done. Now they'll continue to look for him without respite, they've asked for reinforcement from San Diego and San Francisco, and at this very moment they've gone to announce in all the neighboring towns that the reward for Zorro or Diego has been increased. And third…"

"What?"

"As of this moment, anybody who takes Diego's side, that is, the side of Zorro, the outlaw, or helps him in any way, will be considered an enemy of the Crown and traitor of the King. And we're all aware of the kind of punishment such traitors receive." What did that mean? It couldn't be that… "_Señora_, I am very sorry. We did what we could. Son."

Ricardo stared at Josefina, then at his father, then back at her. He hadn't seen this coming; he was sure there had to be some mistake, it couldn't be that his wimpy childhood friend Diego was the paladin of justice even _he_ had got to admire at some point. Whatever the case, he followed his father to their coach.

The _señores_ with no name left as well, not before muttering a few words or giving a nod or courtesy bow.

Only don Nacho and don Alfredo were left.

"I remember… when they falsely accused me… it was Zorro who saved me more than once. It was don Diego. But… I have a wife and daughter to take care of, I…"

Don Nacho said no more. He left.

"_Señora_, listen to me, everyone is quite tense at this moment, we must wait for the dust to settle even if a little. Allow me to take you home."

Her bones began to hurt, maybe because of the smacks against the wall and the floor, but more accurately, like something inside of her was being destroyed.

"I have… a horse… it's fine, I'll take my horse."

"You're very upset, please allow me-"

"No. Leave. You too."

Don Alfredo then said, almost in a whisper and hardly moving his lips at all:

"There must be something we can do, believe me. We only need time."

"If they capture him, _time_ is precisely what he'll lack."

"Please, believe me. You're not alone."

Don Alfredo finally gathered the courage (if it can be called that way) to turn around and leave as well.

It was over 8 in the morning, maybe close to 9. Some carts were already passing by, an elderly man with a donkey, a girl that headed to sell _tamales_ at the market. Josefina managed to get out of the way of a coach she didn't see until the last second.

She didn't want to go home, as if nothing had happened. But she could see no other option. Maybe she should wait for don Alejandro there and…

"Excuse me, _señora_." She hadn't seen sargeant García either, or the two lancers that accompanied him.

_Wake up, pay attention. _

_He escaped, that's what matters. _

_He's hurt. _

_It was in the arm. _

_Or the shoulder, or the chest._

_No, they'd have found him by now. The bullet probably just grazed him. _

_Pay attention_.

"It is my duty to inform you that from now on, you will be escorted by us."

"That means you'll be watching my every move?"

"No, not that, not watching your every move, but… well… yes. The _Comandante_ thinks that maybe Zorro… don Diego, will try to communicate with you or don Alejandro. That's why we'll accompany you to the _hacienda_ and we'll be with you until the watch relief arrives and… so on."

Through the years she'd served him wine at the tavern, almost always at someone else's expense, later as Diego's friend and guest to their wedding practically hours before, Josefina had seen cheer, amusement, sometimes seriousness in the soldier's face; boredom, perplexity, and, yes, even sadness, she saw sadness, when uncle Pedro died, she remembered that. However, she'd never seen this: shame.

That didn't stop her; moreover, it encouraged her:

"So you betray your friend too, after we considered you part of the family and sat you at our table on our wedding day."

"Please, I'm just following orders, don't make it harder-"

"You're a traitor."

Shame and all, the sergeant had no choice:

"_Señora_, we wouldn't want to make you go by force. Please."

She was exhausted, physically and mentally. She had to give in.

She got on the horse and flanked by the two lancers and with sargeant García in the rearguard, she headed to the De la Vega hacienda.

(...)

The trunks were lined up against the wall, locked and ready. The wedding dress was still hanging on a side of the closet. On the nightstand, there was the breakfast on the tray that Cresencia brought, of which she only had a couple of bites. On the other side, empty space: the side of the bed where he had been with her only once.

Neither on the bed's canopy nor on the ceiling were there any stars left, as much as she attempted to find them, all the while a bunch of implausible outcomes paraded in her mind: Diego showing up outside the window all of a sudden, she'd get on Tornado with him, and they'd take off galloping towards the twilight; for whatever reason, they'd replace Monasterio with another guy, or maybe the Governor himself was replaced, the new person in charge realized Zorro was a rightful man, gave him amnesty, Diego returned with his arm on a sling and they lived happily ever after; there was a trial, he was declared innocent and… yes, another happy ending scenario.

But none was real. The only real thing was this abysmal devastation.

_When something seems too good to be true, it is_. Uncle Pedro used to say that. Perhaps he'd been right.

She wiped her face with her hands when hearing voices outside:

"...and how dare you harass a lady like this, as if she were a criminal?!"

"_Señor,_ I'm following orders."

"This is _my_ house and _I'm_ the one that gives the orders!"

Josefina opened the door.

She'd never seen don Alejandro with his hair all unkept, an off-center tie and dark circles under his eyes.

"Child..."

None of them had anticipated this hug. For her, it was a memory of her father during the good times, of uncle Pedro in those few occasions they had hugged. For don Alejandro, it was almost has hugging Diego himself, because it was he who, among so many rich or poor señoritas who would have gladly allowed him to court them, he'd known to choose precisely this one.

The lancer stayed on guard duty outside of the door.

Don Alejandro let himself fall on the desk's chair; her, on the border of the bed.

"They wanted to hang him but he escaped they've been looking for him but they haven't found him and I don't know how they got him in the first place I don't know how-"

"Bernardo and don Alfredo told me everything. I made a visit to Monasterio too, I saw you left him a souvenir" he pointed at his forehead, in reference to the scratch that adorned the _Comandante_'s face: "Well done, I was this close to smashing his face in, sending my son, _my son! _to the gallows, when all he's ever done is helping the decent people of this town, and watching out for justice to be made." Don Alejandro hadn't slept all night either. It took him over six hours to make it to Los Angeles, with the horse nearly dying of fatigue and not knowing if he was going to arrive to a dead son. "Did you know? That he is… did you?"

Josefina nodded.

"I imagined."

"What are we going to do, don Alejandro?"

He considered the questions for a little while before answering:

"What we're going to do is… not what I would do. It's what Zorro would. We must be cunning, as he is. I recognize that many times I let myself get carried away by the spur of the moment, but not Diego, he analyzes things with patience. I still don't know how or what, _hija_, but it's what we must do."

"Do you think he's…?"

"He'll be alright."

He said it both to her and to himself.

(...)

High up there on the pulpit, the priest talked and talked in a loud voice for the filigrees, with the Heavenly Graces as the day's central topic. At the same time, Josefina tried her best to ignore the glances directed her way.

This was don Alejandro's first idea:

"We can't let Monasterio think we're permanently at home waiting for Diego to give us a sign. We must feign a certain degree of normalcy" he said. With that purpose, Josefina had to go to church and then to the market that Sunday, accompanied by Bernardo and, unfortunately, two shadows in uniform, sitting on the bench right behind her, as if she had a gargoyle perched to each shoulders. At the same time, don Alejandro would take care of the _hacienda_'s business, not without a lancer, corporal or sergeant sniffing around up close.

_Normalcy. _

_Normalcy when Diego could be hungry or cold or thirsty or in pain or-_

_Stop it. Diego is way too smart to be suffering those kinds of necessities. Besides, don Alejandro sent some vaqueros on a hunting trip, supposedly, but they're actually looking for him right now._

_If the lancers haven't found him, I doubt they will. _

_Have some faith. _

_Faith_…

She'd thanked God when she learnt he hadn't been caught; it was no moment to put that aside. She looked at the sorrowful face of Christ up at the cross:

_Let him be alright, please… protect him… _

The altar boy was staring at her, too. A boy of about 13 or 14 years old.

Did he just smile at her?

And… had she imagined it? Did the kid make the sign of the Z with his finger, just slightly, the wide sleeve of his ecclesiastical robe almost covering his knuckles entirely?

Everyone stood up. She hurried to imitate them. Doña Dolores, as usual, was giving away, row by row, the missal with the prayers of the faithful that corresponded to that day.

Josefina's heart jumped when she opened it: a Z painted with black ink crossed the two pages from end to end. She closed it right away.

She didn't take her eyes away from the Christ for the rest of the mass.

(...)

The church and the market were at opposite ends of the main square. Josefina walked down the dusty street, shoulders straight, Bernardo by her side and the other two following along, too close for comfort. It felt like each little thing around was suspended in the air from invisible strings, like every person was an actor and the buildings, just facades, but no one else realized; she was the only one to feel, to almost touch this sort of strange farce they were all representing.

"_Buenos días."_

"_Buenos días."_

"_Buenos días, señora_ De la Vega."

"_Buenos-_" Another Z in the air. "-_días_."

Buy one peach, get one more free. The asparagus were a quarter of a peso for the handful. She hadn't even really thought about what to buy. Whatever thing.

Apples. Apples would do.

"_Buenos días_, don Miguel. Six apples, _por favor_. How much is that?"

"For you, zero pesos."

"But… please tell me a price. Half a peso?"

The soldiers had their attention on a tobacco stand. Don Miguel approached her a bit: "For the family of Zorro, they're free."

One of the fruits had a Z carved on it.

"Ah… th- thank you."

Was this part of the normalcy they were attempting to portray?

She kept on walking, feeling entirely like one of those wind-up toys. Young and old, several more people made the sign of the Z discreetly, though a child who wielded a wooden stick like a sword did it with no shame or regrets.

"_Buenos días_. Four, eh, six pears, please. How much would that be?"

The old lady asked to come closer. More. A little more. Then she whispered to her ear:

"They're on the house. It's our pleasure to attend to Zorro's wife."

It was a miracle the lancers hadn't yet noticed anything unusual. It was best to leave already and stop pushing her luck.

Going to the other side of the square again seemed like a titanic task.

And then, there was a murmur: "Viva… viva el Zorro…"

As usual, Bernardo played his part perfectly, pretending not to hear anything. But he did. Anyone with functioning ears could hear it, louder by the second:

"Viva el Zorro!"

"Who said that?!" one of the soldiers shouted. Time froze in the market, a picturesque postcard of some perfect little town. "Who is the traitor to the Crown, eh?! It was no one, was it?"

"It was me!" a young man yelled.

"And me!" another one followed him, and then another one, and then some more.

The lancers gripped their muskets and turned in every direction, while more and more people joined the _viva al Zorro!_ chants and even continued to draw Z's in the air.

"Viva el Zorro!"

"Leave him alone!"

"Leave this girl alone, you dogs!"

"VIVA EL ZORRO!"

Bernardo was carrying the basket with the fruits, Josefina was clutching the missal against herself. Every face looked at her with sympathy, and not for herself, but because of him, because everyone knew the truth: that he wasn't a criminal, but the entire opposite.

Her soul got into a knot when someone shouted:

"Viva don Diego de la Vega!"

(...)

Note: alrighty! This one was a bit long but it's done. Btw, "buenos días" is "good morning." Thanks for reading!


	15. Chapter 15: The cage

Chapter XV

The cage

She dabbed a single drop of ink on the straw-colored sheet, then twisted the lid back on to the tiny glass inkpot and put it aside with the others. The coffee like liquid formed a perfect circle, which Josefina came to disturb very slightly with the tip of her index, a small touch that shook the entirety of the dark little puddle. Next, time to leave faint prints or tracks on the paper: one, two, three. She rested her left temple on the desk: now her eyes were at the same height of her creation: four, five, six,...

There was a soldier right outside the window, she could she him. Another one at the door for sure. They had increased the unwanted company ever since the market incident, and now there were lancers wandering around the _hacienda_ at all times, even in the passage and the cave: so much did they poke around that they finally stumbled upon them. In fact, Zorro's former sanctuary was now lounge and dorm room for soldiers.

Don Miguel, the apples vendor, ended up in jail that day, after being one of those who shouted _vivas!_ to Zorro with more vehemence. He wasn't the only one, about twenty people overall. And even though they released them few days later, it was more than enough for Josefina to decide not going to the mass anymore, or to shop for groceries or take absurd strolls; she didn't want more people risking to face the musket or the gallows because of her.

The ink on her fingertip faded out. She refilled it and started over: one, two, three,...

She remembered what Diego told her at the _Mision_'s patio on that faraway day: time isn't a constant, sometimes it slips away and others… it's neverending, like waking up in the morning, pretending to read some book, struggling to take in any new word in French from the learning method of seven or eight volumes; having lunch, sitting at the patio for a while, coming back into the house; not being able to put two notes of a sonata together, all of that had vanished from her head, it seemed that it wasn't herself but another woman, the one that played for Diego that piece that doesn't exist anymore; then dinner, and bedtime.

Neverending.

And inside, at all times, like the certitude of a cancer, the fear:

_How is he?_

_Where is he?_

_Is today the day they'll capture him?_

There were already whole constellations of tiny stains of ink on the sheet of paper, when don Alejandro stormed in. The folders he had under his arm, he tossed them away and they ended up all scattered on the carpet.

No need to ask.

"No chance for a trial, the Governor confirmed it. I thought that with this meeting, perhaps we could…"

The marble paperweight went to crash against the Venetian bottle of wine, causing it to explode in chunks and daggers and fragments that flew in every direction.

He stopped, maybe to catch his breath, to try to find some sort of order in this impossible reality:

"They'll shoot him on sight. That, or death penalty, there's no difference."

Josefina's eyes were on the cup that miraculously survived the flying paperweight. At last, she spoke:

"I wish we could just know he's all right. Even… if he's not here."

"He will not _be here_ ever again. Don Diego de la Vega, son of the _hacendado_: that doesn't exist anymore." Before heading out the door, she heard him murmur bitterly: "it's over."

Instead of calling one of the servants, she started to pick up the pieces of glass, to absorb the liquor on the carpet with a piece of cloth, to put the paperweight back in its place, to organize the documents and leave them on a corner of the desk, next to the deformed stars of blackish ink.

Though it was still early, she headed to her room.

She still wouldn't get used to calling it that way, _her room_, like it was hers only. It wasn't; it was his, _theirs_, the place where he took off her veil and then her wedding dress. She stared at both of the rings in her finger: the engagement one and the wedding one: she wouldn't take those off, not even when she took a bath or went to sleep.

And the trunks… maybe it was sick to still have them there, untouched after two months, as if out of the blue Diego would materialize at that doorway (or window, like in her fantasies), and they could take their luggage and go on their Spain honeymoon, to verify the scent of the jasmines and olive trees.

The trunks…

For not apparent reason, she looked for the key, sat on the floor facing the biggest one and opened the lock. It was supposed to be opened when they were starting a life together, not like this, without knowing if they had any life left to live.

His navy blue jacket was on top of everything else.

This is how he looked like with it on, at uncle Pedro's store, at the tavern, the _Mision_ or any other place; this is how it felt, this is the first textures she ever knew of his arms that time she lost balance and he held her, at _Padre_ Felipe's library; this was the shape of his shoulders and his back, this was his smell.

And she broke down. And lying on the carpet, holding on to the jacket like it was a dead body, she submerged in a cry that darkened it all, that admitted no hope or optimism. She stayed there, and in a dream, she could see him from the distance, kilometers apart, a multitude of people between them. There was no way to see his face, only the collar of his shirt, a strand of hair, an ear that wouldn't look her direction, that would get further and further away like the two strangers they were before: the waitress and the _señor. _

(...)

Anita would vi her on Tuesday afternoons, always carrying a fan or handkerchief as a present, sometimes a package of almonds, all of them thoroughly inspected by the lancers in order to intercept any possible message from the _outlaw_. On Fridays, it was _Padre_ Felipe; they'd sit at the patio's little table to talk about Pepe's improvements in reading and writing, the struggling vegetable patch he had at the _Mision_ and how it seemed to be finally about to bare fruits, or French conjugations.

There was always a soldier nearby, though generally bored to death.

"...same as _vouloir_, right? _Je voulais, tu voulais, il voulait_-"

"Exactly" he nodded: "_nous voulions, vous vouliez, vendredi prochain vous me demanderez de faire votre confession._"

It took her a couple seconds.

The priest's olive old eyes begged her to compose herself.

She did.

"Yes. I've... always found the imperfect tense to be specially difficult."

"Not as much as subjunctive."

"Right. More tea?"

"But of course, thank you."

The young lancer was more interested in biting his nails.

(...)

The seven following days were agony, even worse than what she'd already gone through.

In the bed that was way too large for her, Josefina couldn't find a sleeping position that'd help silence her mind's screams:

_Friday, Friday, I don't know if I'll make it until Friday. _

_You'd better, this is the first real sign you have. _

_What sign? The father didn't really say anything about Diego. _

_What's wrong with you?! It's obviously about Diego. He knows something, he'll tell you something, that's why we'll ask the guard to leave, because it's a confessional secret, but in reality it's about Diego. _

_But what?_

_That he's fine, that he somehow-_

_What if it's bad news?_

_It's not. _

_What if it is?_

_It's not!_

_It's too long until Friday, I can't stand this. _

_You'll have to. Time isn't a constant. _

_And how does that help me?_

_Friday._

_Friday._

_Friday_…

When she got to sleep at last, at one or two in the morning, it wouldn't take more than a couple hours for her to wake up again. She'd come around with a racing heart, sometimes would jump out of bed; once, her breathing got interrupted or something similar, and she had to get up and fall on her knees, trying to breathe in an air that seemed made of lead.

During the day, it wasn't easy to pretend either, it even made her feel guilty not telling don Alejandro, at least not yet. It was funny in a certain manner (better to look at it that way), to recall those days of getting fidgety nervous in front of _don Diego_: having to hide her true feelings, acting natural, keeping a poker face, not getting startled at a fly's buzzing.

Incredibly, she made it.

The unreachable Friday arrived, and with it, the priest that married her with her persecuted and absent husband.

Luckily, Corporal Reyes was the one on duty. Josefina let him know about the privacy needed for her confession, the Corporal refused, the father explained about the strict secrecy of the sacrament; she begged, the lancer hesitated, padre Felipe threatened him with a direct trip to blazing hell, for impeding the healing of a soul.

"All right. I… I'll go inside and see you from the window."

They sat at the table. Talking about souls, it was Josefina's the one that was about to pour out of her mouth. This could be what she had spent 70 miserable days waiting for. Or a disappointment.

Inside, Corporal Reyes attempted to wipe clean a dirty spot on his musket. The priest had his back to him and to the house; he spoke in an impossibly low whisper:

"Do not react at any moment. Move your lips as if you were speaking. What I'm about to tell you will put you in danger. If we continue no further, he'll be glad to know you'll be safe. So I ask you: should I go on?"

She didn't even register the word _danger_. But one word did stand out: _he_.

"Yes, please, go on. _No matter what_."

Already aware that that's the answer he'd receive, he nodded:

"In that case, then remember each word. May eleventh, nine thirty in the evening, no luggage, nothing in your hands, you come out of your bedroom, there'll be no guard outside. Once downstairs, run to the right towards the shed, then to the fence, go over the fence, run in the direction of the creek and go to the only large tree you'll see. Shed, fence, creek, tree. There'll be a cart there, you get under the hay. You ask no questions, just wait and trust. Is it clear?"

Josefina repeated the information in silence, focusing all of her existence for once not in her emotions, but in a reasoning that'd allow her to lose no fact.

"Yes."

"Don't tell anyone, not even don Alejandro. And remember: trust." The priest placed a hand on her head and raised his voice: "God the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his Son has reconciled the world to himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins; through the ministry of the Church may God give you pardon and peace, and I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen."

He could have recited the recipe for a pumpkin pie and there would have been no difference for her. All of her being revolved around some simple words:

_May 11th, nine thirty, downstairs, right, shed, fence, creek, tree, cart, hay. _

_Wait. Trust._

_(...) _

Note: aw I don't think I have anything important to say right now XD I just hope you enjoyed this little chap. Thanks for reading!


	16. Chapter 16: The room

Chapter XVI

The room

During the two endless months of aching for some sort of sign, Josefina had sunk in a kind of lethargic sorrow, a swamp of inactivity that was a bottomless labyrinth at the same time. She wanted to do something, but what? She feared any possible move could backfire, same as it happened with the visit to the church and the market that one time.

However, _padre_ Felipe's visit brought faith back, and with it, the spirit that the other night had given her the courage to hop on a horse and head to the quarters all by herself, to face Monasterio and, on top of that, even attack him physically when it was necessary.

And it's just that, sometimes, we end up doing things we didn't know we were capable of.

She couldn't show it, of course. During the countdown for May eleventh, everything had to be as it'd always been: the same empty hours at the library, the same failed attempts at the piano… while, inside, her mind continued dissecting to the core and for the thousandth time, the message of the priest.

First of all, Diego was alive and well, or at least mostly recovered from the wounds he could have had. That alone was enough to lower down the volume of her fear. He was alive.

_Thank you, God_.

Second, he'd given her the chance to abort the plan before even starting it, to stay _safe_ at home. A nice gesture of his (like all of his gestures, like always) but he probably knew it was just a formality. Whatever was the strategy he and father Felipe had managed to put together who knows how, no matter how risky, there was no way she'd stay out.

Third, there'd be no guard outside her window on the appointed day. So, they weren't alone in this. It was no shock, considering the people in town and of course, the _hacienda_'s servants were on Zorro's side. But who, how had they contacted them, how would they get rid of the soldier, were some lancers also on this side? She doubted it. Bernardo was the most logical option, but father Felipe hadn't mentioned him. So Josefina would see him get her a cup of tea, help her reach for the books on the highest regions of the shelf, come back from the market with the nicest apples for her, and she wondered, _is it you, Bernardo? Are you aware of this? Do you know your _patrón _and I are leaving and we'll leave you here?_

There was no turning back, _we're leaving,_ no matter where. To the mountains, to Texas, she'd already considered several alternatives. _We're leaving_, that's a fact. Or it was, until two days before.

The French poetry book was yet another excuse to pass time, in the bedroom in this occasion, when the raised voices of a heated up discussion reached her from some point of the house.

Her very own doorman and bodyguard followed her down the hall and down the stairs.

"...out of my property in this instant! Get out!"

A moment later, the last person she would have wanted to meet emerged from the library.

Face to face with him once again, and yet again the paw of fear snatching her heart away and squeezing it like an orange for juice.

_Does he know something?_

_He knows nothing_.

There had to be a way to pull herself together.

"What are you doing here?"

Monasterio's expression was neutral, at least, not triumphant or mocking.

"Good afternoon, _señora. _I owe you no explanations of course, but I was passing by to present my respects to your father in law. And to make sure everything is working as it should around here."

"Well I don't know if you've noticed, but your _respects_ are not welcome in here. Goodbye."

"A moment, please."

Her knees wobbled. Literally.

_He knows something._

_He knows nothing. _

_Don't you dare look down, look at him, you have nothing to hide_.

"You, out." The lancer disappeared in a jiffy. Now the _Comandante _seemed annoyed. He spoke: "I'll go straight to the point."

_Heknowssomething_

_Heknowsnothing_

_Heknowssomething_

_Heknowsnothing_

"Even though it was _you_ who started attacking _me_ that day, I can assure you that a variety of things might me said about me: that I'm stern; authoritarian, perhaps; strict, definitely; but it could never be said I've ever raised a hand against a woman. So, I beg your pardon if I caused you any harm. That's all."

Another thing that could be said about Monasterior, is that he, for sure, wasn't used to apologizing to anyone.

"I… _attacked_ you, because you had a gun and you were heading to get my husband and trust me, I'd do it again. And if it's _harm_ we're talking about, what's really harming us is this chase you have against all of us."

"What you call a chase is a rightful prosecution protected by the law, which De la Vega got himself coming, if I may add. But I have no interest in continuing this pointless discussion with any of you, so, if you'll excuse me, good afternoon."  
Josefina breathed again when he closed the door behind his back. Her relief didn't last long: just two days before, that man showed up at home. It couldn't be that-

_He knows nothing. _

_He knows nothing. _

_Say it again. _

_He knows nothing._

(...)

It seemed that each and every object around screamed in excitement and fright: the cupboard, that was also the entrance of the not-so-secret-anymore passage; the piano, the chimney, the rug, the curtains and even the chicken and vegetables pie Cresencia made for dinner. Everything was burning, jumping up and down and spinning around, on this May eleventh at seven o'clock.

"_Señora,_ should I take his dinner to don Alejandro or will you?"

"I will, Cresencia, thank you."

It was a long time since he'd come to eat in the dining room. These days, he spent the entirety of this time either on the hacienda's work, in business meetings or in his bedroom. He, too, was trapped inside his own labyrinth and personal hell: his only son missing, the guillotine hanging over his neck.

_If I could just tell him Diego is all right…_

_What did father Felipe say about that?_

_That I should tell not even him but-_

_He might do something trying to help you both, and instead end up ruining it all. _

_But-_

_No buts. Just wait and trust. And keep your mouth shut_.

Under the watchful eye of the lancer in the corridor, she knocked several times before coming in, same as every night.

"Don Alejandro?" And just like every night, he was sitting at the desk made up of polished wood, whether it be reading papers or writing, or doing nothing in particular just… there. "I brought your dinner. Cresencia prepared the pie you like."

Some days, he wouldn't answer, as if he didn't even notice her presence. Other times, like this night, he nodded and kept on reading some yellowish paper.

It was incredible: the _señor_ that before, she'd see only from a distance, the millionaire rancher, righteous and fair, though with a temper, from the first moment she stepped into his house had accepted her and treated her even with affection and, just like he said... how long ago? (too long): like they were family already. She could never thank him enough, and now…

_Keep. Your mouth. Shut. _

"Good night" she turned to leave.

"Josefina."

She stared at him from the doorway. He had the same determined look as always, but now and since weeks ago, sadness in the eyes.

"Yes?"

"Thank you. _Hija_."

"You're welcome." She had to leave right away not to cry.

(...)

Eight o'clock was time to be in her… and Diego's bedroom. His pocket watch, the one he brought from Spain, was exposed on the desk like a museum piece: three minutes after eight.

The wave of vertigo showed up, but it was a type of vertigo that pushed her forward, perhaps the adrenaline that makes people act in extreme situations or moments of danger.

She went to the window to close the curtains. The soldier was still right outside.

Well, like uncle Pedro used to say: time's a wastin.

The first order of business was to get rid of the dress replace it for something more appropriate for the occasion. If she had to run, climb over a fence and crawl under a bunch of hay, the worst thing she could do was wear a skirt. It could be considered complete insanity, but certainly not as much as running away from lancers infested house, to go and meet a _criminal_ at large. She opened up one of the trunks and rummaged through, until she found his navy blue pants, which were actually almost black. With a pair of scissors, she cut off almost half a meter of the pants' legs, put them on and tightened them with a belt. Not very pretty… _a horror_, doña Graciela would say, but completely practical.

Low shoes and a black long sleeved blouse that had belonged to aunt Caridad: colors that would disguise her well in the moonless night. She almost laughed at the thought: if Zorro dressed in black to go out, it made sense that his wife did too.

_His wife. Zorro's wife. Still surreal. _

Hair in a bun, no rebellious lock should be in the middle of the way. A pillow and some clothes tucked strategically under the bed cover; a precaution of this type wouldn't hurt, simple but effective, and it could get her a precious minute of edge in case of-

_No. There'll be no surprises or unexpected events. _

_There always are, life is full of them. You'd better think about what you'll do if one of them comes up. _

_Such as?_

…

She didn't dare to give it a thought. Monasterio's face insisted in appearing in the front of her mind.

_What if they catch me?_

_Then they'll catch me fighting. _

She looked at herself in the mirror one more time. Yes, one last thing.

She took off the rings and strung them together into a piece of yarn, then placed it around her neck, to hide them underneath the blouse, just like she did back then at the tavern.

Lights off, then she sat on the bed with the watch in her hand. It was so dark she could hardly see the golden hands, but yes, it was eight fifty.

_If they catch me, it'll be fighting_, she repeated.

The screams of the objects around gave way to a quietness in suspension, the calm before the storm, like they say.

…_in good times and in bad…_

Eight fifty five.

Would her hands shake when the moment came? She was prone to tremble like jelly when nervousness hit.

_No. You're strong. _

_I'm weak. _

_You're not. Do you love him?  
I love him. _

_No matter what?_

_No matter what. _

_Onward and upward, then. _

Still half an hour to go.

Josefina began to unravel the silence around.

And waited.

(...)

Note: when I first wrote this chapter, in Spanish, I was at a café. And when I was writing the part with don Alejandro I got so emotional, then a song started to play there, don't know which one, but oh, tears poured out. I really felt it. Thanks for reading!


	17. Chapter 17: The way

Chapter 17

The way

_Nine thirty_

She stuck her head out the door. In the corridor, there was darkness, the buzzing of some insect and the smell of earth, but not a soul.

She breathed in through the mouth, then out.

In one side of her mind, Diego waiting to help her get on a flying horse with him; in the other, Monasterio and the gallows with her name on it: Josefina de la Vega.

Again, she inhaled another puff of the night's warm air.

And stepped out.

_Down_

It was no coincidence that it was a night of new moon. What was around, more than seeing it, she guessed it. The stairs had to be right there. She went down the steps cautiously, feeling the way along the wall with a hand. Once on ground level, she rested her back against a pillar and listened: crickets, the faint breeze in the bushes. Where were the soldiers? She wouldn't stay to find out.

_To the right_

Objectively speaking, it wasn't a long distance, but each meter she overcame felt like the prelude of a rifle that would materialize in thin air to block the way. Memories of Don Quixote popped into her mind, him and another scene of a remote book, in which the protagonist managed to escape the dungeons of a medieval castle.

She forced herself to scare all of those fictions away, for the moment. She had to focus.

_Shed_

There was the wooden door, the haystacks, a few tools resting against the walls. She had to go around; behind, somewhere, there was the perimeter fence.

One corner.

Another one to go.

All of her focus was on where to place her feet… so much… that when she saw it... it was too late.

A hazy brightness shocked her sight.

To turn around, to run away, to hide…

Too late.

The light turned around the corner and came in her direction.

Don Alejandro's premonitory words from few days back, slapped her in the mind: _it's over._

Holding her breath, ready to lie or bawl or fight with whoever was standing in front of her, what she met was a very round, astonished and open mouthed face.

Time might not be constant and it can also freeze.

Maybe it was the terrified and pleading face that stared at him with those black, wide eyes, the same that so many times had smiled at him kindly at the tavern. Or knowing that he'd lost track of how many times Zorro had saved the lives of his lancers and his very own. Or being aware that the wanted outlaw always fought for causes that ended up being fair, it could not be said that he'd ever stolen something or killed anyone, unless it was in self defense or in defense of others. Sargeant García knew all of this well. Or maybe the term _traitor_ resounded in his head, which that girl that was now pretty much shrinking before him, called him that time.

The shout of alarm died out in his mouth. An almost imperceptible nod, and he continued his way with his little lamp.

_Fence_

With her hands and forehead sweat like a pot on the fire, Josefina was able to move again, faster, jogging, running towards the fence. She felt almost blind, could only see (or imagine) dead leaves under her feet, partly because of how dark it was and also because of the shock, which had clouded her sight. In fact, she was seeing tiny little green and reddish lights, like little sort of colorful streaks that popped up everywhere and she had to blink once and again for them to disappear, only to see them reappear a second later.

She almost falls when the fence appeared out of nowhere and she crashed into it.

A foot, a hand, something that pricked her finger, a bump that scraped her knee while she climbed up guided only by a visceral instinct. She was crying without tears, flinched in a sob that wouldn't come out.

The fence was two meters high or a bit more, though it had seemed kilometers high.

She let herself fall on the other side and congratulated herself on the pants idea, which fit her like those of a traveling circus clown.

And she started to run again.

_Creek_

After a couple of minutes, she stopped. The fence was behind her back… or wasn't it? She had the feeling, or instead, the fear, of having gone off course, of taking a wrong turn and heading straight to the _hacienda_'s main entrance, or who knows, right to the garrison or Monasterios's office. It made no sense, really, but that was her mental state.

Yes, the fence and the house were behind, she was sure. The creek had to be to the front. And above… the only lights in the world, perhaps not millions but hundreds of thousands, where Cassiopeia and the Major Piano were crystal clear.

She went on.

A faint brightness opened up her sight now, like she had activated a lever that made the light of the stars pour over all things, even if a little.

Brushwood, weeds, she could already hear the water dripping and sprinkling, the creek was close.

And also the-

_Tree_

She didn't look back once, all of her being placed on that crown, leafy and dark, that interrupted the flatland. The throbbing pain of the prickling in the finger vanished, when she recognized the rectangular shape below the tree.

_Cart_

_...you get under the hay. You ask no questions_… There was no one to ask them to, anyway, since there was no one at the reins. So she dug on a side, put some larger branches aside, crawled in and covered herself as best as she could. With her hands put together, she made a sort of small chamber of empty space in front of her nose and mouth.

And once again, waited.

_Trust_

Not for long. She wasn't sure if she felt it or heard it, but there was a movement or a presence; an instant later, the cart began to move.

It was a relief in a way, at least now she could take a break from having to act. In spite of it, it was hard to breathe, partly because of the blight and dust and the tangled mess of hay, and also, still, because of the encounter with the Sergeant. When it came to him, she had to trust, too.

A while later, she noticed they were starting to go upwards, as if up a slope. She felt tempted to peek out to see where they were going or who the driver was, if it was a familiar face (Bernardo? Pepe? One of the _vaqueros_?) or a strange one, a friend of the priest, perhaps. But she didn't move. All of her focus was in allowing air into her lungs, in keeping her eyes closed, in curling up underneath the hundreds of tiny needles that pinched her in the neck, hands, ankles, and any square centimeter of skin that dared exposing itself; in trusting, in trusting with all of her might, because she was at the mercy of Diego's plan, and therefore, everything would be all right.

They pulled over.

_What now?_

_Are we there yet?_

_Where?_

Again, her mind started to string together ideas outside the instructions of father Felipe.

Three knocks on a side of the cart.

Well, the father hadn't mentioned this, but it had to be included in the _trust_ part.

She slid out and hopped off, shaking off the wisps she had from hair, half up in a bun, half lose, to blouse and pants.

Rocky formations, high as houses, appeared in her field of vision; a mountainside; and someone taking care of freeing the donkey from the cart. It looked like he had… yes, a mess of hair almost down to the shoulders and a hat. It reminded him of an American mountain man that had passed by the town some years ago.

"Hello?"

Once the cart was free, the man got to hiding it under a pile of brushwood and branches.

Josefina then had time to have a look around, or at least at what was visible, hugging herself. The place seemed vaguely familiar.

Something had to be said or done:

"Excuse me, where are we going now?"

Silence.

The wagon was almost completely covered now. That meant they only had the donkey left, right there in the middle of nowhere. There had to be some plan, a next logical step she wasn't aware of yet.

_Wait. Trust._

Hard to, the moment that tall man dressed in fur of who knows what, with a face concealed by darkness, turned around and walked towards her.

She didn't mean to take a step back. But she did.

And then, she heard him:

"I'm not going to hurt you, _señorita_." He emerged from the shadows, his eyes as clear as his voice: "Or is it… _señora_?"

All of the fear, the anguish, the uncertainty of the previous days, turned invisible to let her recognize, maybe not the beard that hid half his face, but the eyes she had met behind the mask of Zorro, his eyes, that always spoke to her without words.

It couldn't be said if it was a cry, a laugh or a hybrid of the two; either way, Josefina was about to fall apart when his chest went to meet her, when she sank in the embrace she'd spent whole sleepless nights praying for.

She looked up, felt his face and his kiss, threw her arms around his neck, he swept her up in the air.

"_Señora_" she finally said, right next to his lips: "I'm a _señora_."

Another kiss and he put her down:

"We must hurry."

"Wha-"

He took her hand:

"We have to run, all right?"  
She nodded and didn't have time to say anything else; they started the ascent.

The way got narrower by the minute, that's why they hadn't been able to go on with the cart, the donkey, free of ties, reins or any other things, could easily be taken for a wild donkey, the rocks were mostly sharp and downwards there was only blackness, and that's when it hit her, how hadn't it occurred to her before?, they were going to the cliff, the place no one would ever reach, that precipice only he knew, the soldiers wouldn't get there in a million years, wherever they stepped, the dirt and loose rocks bounced under their feet with every step, he was deliberately walking slower than he could, in order to wait for her, who kept on squeezing his hand hard, to force herself to go on, had he spent over two months living up there by himself like a hermit?, she wanted to ask him a hundred things but the air was enough only to stay in motion and avoid those large rocks, how was Tornado able to take this road?, well, it was the flying horse, though maybe this was another way, they were heading to the top, that was for sure, one ankle failed her at a point, but he held her and kept her from crashing her already scratched knee against some pointy stones, everything seemed unreal but she didn't have to tell herself anymore that she had to trust, because hand in hand with Diego, that just came naturally.

The last chunk of the road was tight, with steep walls on both sides, a gorge that some trickle of water eroded for thousands of years; or that some earthquake had split in half like a cracker, who knows. He climbed up first, then held out his hands to help her up.

Once at the summit, on flat land, half beat up and covered in remnants of hay and dust, she couldn't have been better (given the circumstances); they had made it to the top of the cliff from a side road, to the same place where that mountain man in front of her, had got on one knee and proposed.

"We made it!" she laughed, overwhelmed with a sudden euphoria. They kissed again. "How are you, are you hurt? They told me they shot you, have you been up here all this time, where how, what are we going to-"

He wasn't looking at her, but past her. She turned to see a sight that gave her a jolt.

Among the rocks, as if they were part of the geological formation, there were two immobile indians, they probably had even seen them arrive and she hadn't noticed their presence. They stared blankly at the newly arrived.

"It's all right" he said. "They're friends of mine."

(...)

Note: Woo! This was a long one to translate, I hope it turned out ok! It's always harder for me to translate stuff when there's a lot of motion, you know? A lot of verbs that mean similar stuff but that have different shades and nuances; I hope it's understandable at least in the intention XD Thanks for reading!


	18. Chapter 18: The sea

Chapter XVIII

The sea

The fantasies she had elaborated during those two agonizing months hadn't been _that_ wrong after all: she was with Diego on a horse, on Tornado, in fact; what she couldn't have foreseen is the blindfolds they made them wear, only way the _white people_ were allowed into the secret indian village.

She felt his breath over her neck: "You were very brave."

"And you were a total madman" she whispered, inhaling his closeness: "How could you even think of actually going there? I thought you'd send someone else to pick me up."

"No, I wouldn't send someone else for my wife."

Good thing he didn't see her smile: the scolding would have lost all seriousness.

"That sounds nice, but it gets ugly if they capture you."

"But they didn't and they won't."

"They did it once."

"It won't happen again." He placed a brief kiss on the back of her head, where the precarious bun had been before: "Do you believe me?"

No need to ask.

"Yes but-"

At the front of the small caravan, one of the guides said something.

"We must be quiet now, we're just entering their sacred lands."

Josefina nodded. They still had an hour to go.

(...)

When they were allowed to remove the blindfold, the first thing that caught her attention was a campfire, and around it, fifteen or twenty tents at most. Everyone was probably sleeping, because the two she'd already met were the only ones in sight. After helping her get off the horse, Diego spoke to them:

"Thank you, my friends."

They weren't too talkative, it seemed. A slight nod and each of them headed to their respective home, built with pelts, leather and wood.

There was one for the two of them as well.

Of all places, this was the furthest one she could have imagined he would be in. According to the townspeople, the indians who hadn't yet been civilized and still lived in nature, where only a little more than wild, dangerous animals, perhaps even cannibals. But now she could see it wasn't like that, at least not this group.

The tent seemed bigger on the inside that on the outside, she saw it when he lit on a small oil lamp that rested on the floor, where there was also a mat and other scarce objects.

All of the questions that had been swarming inside her mind, melted away. They weren't so important, right? At least not as much as perceiving his presence right in front of her, alive, in one piece, having found (as always) the way, though unconventional, of beating the odds and defeating death.

"They suit you" he said at last.

The pants; she'd forgotten she was wearing them.

"This suits _you_", with the tip of her fingers, she grazed his now bearded jaw.

"Not this." Josefina couldn't help to laugh when he got rid of the wacko hair; it was a wig, then. Where did he get it? "Better?"

"Not bad."

"And you? Are you all right?"  
"Yes. Just, something pricked my finger, I think."  
"Come."

He led her to a low, makeshift stool, then sat on the floor, the lamp between them.

Diego took the hand and examined the injured finger:

"Yes, it's a splinter, and a big one. You want me to remove it?"

"Sure."

"It's going to hurt."

Josefina just shrugged and even smiled, half dazed by the fact of being so close to him again. She saw him focus in the wounded ring finger, gently squeezing the skin around the tiny wooden dagger. Those lines hinted to appear on his forehead, the ones he sometimes got when he focused on something, like now, fixing her finger, sometimes you have to suffer first for things to get better.

So, for the duration of the procedure, she stared at him.

Until he stared back.

"I thought I wouldn't see you again. That maybe you'd died."

He held her hand between his. The splinter was out.

"I never wanted to cause you this, Josefina, my love. I'm sorry."

"I don't say it to blame… anyone, or to blame you. I said it just because I felt it and now I want you to know that I feel… the opposite. Now I feel that we're both… alive."

This is the embrace she'd wished for, the both of them safe in an imaginary place where no one would ever get them. This was the kiss she'd dreamed of a million times, the beard was a new addition but she liked how it felt. This is how she'd remembered his body next to hers, his warmth, imagined his hands again and his voice that told her precisely this:

"I love you."

(...)

What time it was, where they were exactly, what they would do next or where they would go… were the last things on her mind. The first thing was the present moment.

The lamp's oil had consumed almost entirely, leaving only a dim glow that drew his face, that allowed her to see the wound in his arm, close the shoulder; it was more a scar at this point.

"Remember what I told you when I asked you to marry me." It wasn't a question; he knew she remembered: "That Zorro's problems wouldn't get to you. They did. I failed you."

"Diego, Zorro can be… an extraordinary hero, he can achieve great feats, do incredible things. But he's human. You're human, like we all are, and sometimes things get out of hand no matter how hard we try. We're not perfect, there are too many variables-"

"Yes but this isn't what I promised you, or what I'd want for you, the way you risked yourself. You know, I even thought about going away, alone-"

"..."

"-so you could be safe at home, so you wouldn't have to be in danger, but I knew you'd never forgive me for something like that. Deep down, I knew you could handle this, that you wouldn't hesitate. Of course, I wouldn't have forgiven myself if something happened to you, so… a decision had to be made."

"And that decision brought us here and now."

"Anyway… this is not what I offered you when we got married, having to run away and hide."

"You just have bad memory."

"Hm?"

"It is _you_ who doesn't remember what we promised: _in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health_, right? Do you remember?"

"Of course I remember."

"Well, there you have it. I didn't marry the comfort, the dresses or the house, or the trip to Spain or the money. I married you and I married you knowing you're Zorro and knowing something like this could happen. It was unlikely but possible. And I'm going to be with you in this and no matter what, because I love you."

Diego brought her closer, if possible, and kissed her forehead.

"Unlikely but possible… I always knew it, though I wouldn't want to accept it. That's why I'm glad I prepared for the worst."

"What do you mean?"

"A while ago I buried some money at the cliff, in case something like this happened. There's enough so we can have a wide scope for action."

"Like what?"

"I have a friend who is a ship captain, he's completely trustworthy. I spoke to him already and he's agreed to take us to France. They set sail in four weeks."

France! This one hadn't occurred to her. It was suddenly like the timid little light from the lamp brightened it all up in an instant and opened the door to something new and unknown that would welcome them. He carried on:

"They won't look for us there. We understand the language and also, I know there's a friend from college that lives in the south. I'd trust him with my life too and we could count on him if necessary. What do you think?"

As always, everything was planned out. An answer, a solution.

"I like it."

"Yes?"

"Yes, it even… makes me a bit excited, I always thought places like France were as far away as another planet so, going there… yes. Let's go."

"Just like that, let's go?"

"What else do we need? Let's just go."

"Let's just go, then."

All of the previous time with no kissing had to be compensated. So, another one, as he covered her better with the blanket weaved by the people from the community; it's in the darkest hours of the morning that it gets colder.

"How's my father?"

"He's…" Bad. Sad. Obsessed with work. "He misses you a lot. He did everything he could to find a way, he talked to the Governor, to everybody, to the other ranchers, but nothing. They… tried to help too."

"They did?"

"At first, yes, but then they got scared, I think. Your father bickered with them all and called them traitors."

"..."

"And Sergeant García, I haven't told you." She described their encounter at the shed: "I called him traitor too and you see, he let me go."

"Oh and I see it, trust me. Josefina: it was him who let me out."

"What?"

"He himself opened the cell door. I'll never forget his words: _from here on, you're on your own, don Diego, but as far as I'm concerned, I won't just sit and watch you die_."

It made sense. And she'd treated him so bad… but how was she to know…

"I think you… I think Zorro has more friends than enemies."  
"Though the enemies may seem more powerful. But he'll return some day."

"_Zorro_ will return? No. He can't return if he never leaves. As long as people keep waiting for him and talking about him, and I'm sure they will, Zorro will continue to be here."

"Hm. Have you fallen in love with Zorro, _señora_, by chance?"

After two months without a visit to the barber, his hair was a tad longer; she could notice it when running her fingers through it.

"Are you jealous, don Diego?"

"Terribly."

(...)

Compared to the two worst months of her life, recently concluded, the following days were a bliss, a 180 degree turn. The total population was of about fifty or sixty people, and they all seemed to carry a peaceful life, with no rush or grand fears, just attentive to keeping their village hidden from the rest of the world at all times. Early in the morning, Diego would go to hunt with the men, and he always came back with good game, which gained him the praise of the others. The rest of the day he spent it in different tasks, such as making spears or helping them repair tents. On her side, it wasn't difficult for Josefina to get used to cooking every day again, tough this time, with more rudimentary tools. The women taught her how to weave, and even if she put all of her effort into it, the progress wasn't too huge. When dusk arrived, everyone got together to eat around the campfire, while someone usually sang a melody probably from the times those rock formations that surrounded them were still stardust. Some clapped or danced, and a brown little dog that had been adopted by the indians, same as them, came to lie down close by, so Josefina would rub its belly again.

"What do you think don Alejandro thought? When they realized I was gone."

Diego knew his father well: "I think he was glad. He knows we're well and together."

"Yes, I thought so too."

Josefina felt better in the tent than she had in the house at the hacienda. Not that she had anything against it, but it reminded her the of the endless days of fear and solitude. Here, in the simple tent with walls that a strong wind would be able to knock off, was home.

(...)

It was in the early morning of a Saturday, Diego was keeping track of the days, when it was time to pick up their stuff. A couple of bundles was all they packed. He put his fake hair back on and for her, the girls had made a wig that was pretty much blonde, using natural dyes and the fur of God knows what animals. She was about to put it in place when her stomach turned.

He hurried to her side, held her hair out of the breakfast's way.

"Are you all right?"

"Uh huh." She stayed still, kept her eyes shut for a while, waiting for her body to go back to normal: "Yes… I'm sorry. I think I'm a bit nervous."

He saw her put everything in order, fix her hair, put on the wig, pack up what was left. He didn't know the lines on his forehead were suddenly visible. Besides books of history, geography, chemistry, language, French, Philosophy and Mathematics, he'd also read a couple of volumes on medicine. He knew right away that that was no nervousness. And he felt happy and scared at the same time, because Zorro gets scared too, but he faces the fear and moves forward.

Everyone gathered to say goodbye.

"I can't thank you enough for everything you've done for us." In fact, and being well aware it could be taken as an offense, he'd attempted to offer some gold coins to the chief, in order to compensate for any expenses they could have caused. The old man rejected them, of course.

"But you have. Zorro saved our people one time. Now our people save Zorro. And his _family_."

Josefina didn't notice the tone the chief put in that last word. But Diego did.

"Thank you all."

She thanked them too. Soon, they were both blindfolded and on Tornado's back, being led back to the outside world.

(...)

They had to leave the faithful black horse with the indians, because anyone could recognize Zorro's steed if it was just left to roam around. They exchanged it for a brown one, which took them through the woods and areas where no one ever traveled, as close to the port as possible.

They waited for midnight in a place that was like a rock shelter on the side of a hill.

Finally, he heard the signal he'd been waiting for. It wasn't easy to trust someone, let alone put Josefina's safety on someone else's hands. But they didn't have another choice and besides, his instinct had rarely… actually, it had failed him only once.

The captain himself showed up in a cart; they hopped on, and an hour later, they were boarding.

"I know it's not much, don Diego, please forgive it's only one bunk and this tight but-"

"No, don't worry about it, it's all right."

"No one saw us arrive, not even the sailors, I made sure to send them into town tonight. You must stay in here at all times and should only open the door when I knock like this:"

Three, one, three, two knocks.

"Understood."

"You have food and water in there for over a month, not the most appetizing, though. After we pass Cape Horn, we'll stop for supplies and I'll be able to give you some more provisions."

"Julian, I don't know how to thank you for this-"

"Nonsense. I don't know if you remember, or if you know it, _señora,_ but Zorro saved the lives of my wife and child once, and my own life in another occasion. And if it wasn't enough, don Alejandro kept my business from going bankrupt few years ago. A lifetime wouldn't be enough to pay you back. This is the least I can do."

They'd set sail at dawn. Through the porthole, there was only blue blackness.

Diego made sure the door was properly locked. She sat on the bunk.

Everything that could go wrong flashed through her mind: the 10 thousand dollars reward being more appealing than the feeling of gratitude, for the captain; that a sailor or somebody could have seen them and rat them out; that there was a mutiny and they'd get thrown overboard or sold as slaves in Siberia; that there was a storm and the ship sank or was attacked by a whale or by pirates or, worse, inspected by some nosy customs; that they ran out of food and no one could bring them more. However, she had to crumple all of that like a paper ball and throw it out. She had to keep trusting. Not in the captain or in luck, but in Diego. And she knew she could.

He came to sit by her side and held her hand. Everything was dark.

"I had never been on the sea."

"It's not the trip to Spain I promised you, though."

"But we're together, the two of us."

_Or the three of us_, he thought. He didn't want to worry her with that until there was no doubt.

A kiss. For the road.

The fatigue from the trip made her fall asleep. He covered her, fixed a couple of blankets on the floor and lied down. The Oceana, still anchored in the bay, oscillated softly with the tide.

A while later, he was about to fall asleep too, when he felt her by his side.

"What happened?" he held her, as she rested her head on his chest.

"Hm?"

"Why did you come down?"

"I'm better here."

On Sunday, June 10th, 1821 at 6:28 in the morning, Josefina and Diego de la Vega departed towards France. The day would be clear, the sea, calm, and Los Ángeles and the _hacienda_, behind, far way.

END.

Note 1: when I originally finished writing this chap, I was crying like a baby, omg. Guess it's not sad as such, but it made me really emotional.

Note 2: I called the natives "indians" cause that's how they called them in the series, I think; at least they did in Spanish.

Note 3: I didn't check if it was a good idea to emigrate to France in 1821 (wars? conflicts?) But let's imagine it was.

Note 4: I have a confession to make: when I first conceived this story, my idea was for them not to only capture Diego/Zorro, but to get him killed off :-O Hence the name of the story, and then Josefina was supposed to stay miserable forever. But when I was in chapter 4 or 5, I realized I couldn't do it and didn't want to. So I made up the whole part about him escaping and whatnot.

Note 5: Other subplots occurred to me, such as Bernardo being put in jail for being an accomplice. But I didn't find a way to fit this in the rest of the story.

Note 6: Guy Williams's boat was named "Oceana", so the name of this ship is a tiny little homage to that.

Note 7: the epilogue is left!

Note 8: Thanks for reading!


	19. Epilogue

Epilogue

1828

Don Alejandro took the last sip of his third cup of tea that day, prepared with herbs that helped both with insomnia and digestion. Bernardo would surely get him the fourth one soon. The desk was crowded with diverse maps and atlas: of the United States, the Spanish domains, Central and South America, Western and Eastern Europe, Canada and even Australia. Most of them had these little red crosses drawn on them: one for each city in which he had searched for his son.

Not in person, naturally, that would have taken him ten lifetimes. But since the day everything changed, since that utopic afternoon when the new Governor gave a final verdict of his revision on the Zorro case (who, by the way, there wasn't a soul at this point who didn't know it had always been Diego de la Vega) and declared him a just man and therefore free of any sentence or punishment, the only thing on don Alejandro's mind was to comb every corner of this Earth until hearing from him.

He knew he was alive, proof of it was that he'd taken Josefina with him. It all made sense then, when recalling the face the girl had that evening: she knew she was leaving and couldn't say a word; he understood, it didn't upset him. Truth be told, not only was he was proud of his own son being Zorro, but also of knowing him as clever as to disappear without a trace. And you can bet he had tried to follow his trail everywhere, with no success. He wrote letters to acquaintances and strangers, friends and enemies, twice in some cases; he sent statements to the King and the Viceroy, he spoke with traders, indians and beggars, and he was a hair's breadth away from shaking Padre Felipe by the shoulders, to force him to tell him something, anything (who else could have brought any message to Josefina?), but the old priest held on to his confession secret and didn't utter a word that could be of use.

That's when he had an idea: getting two portraits made, of Diego and the wife, and sending them to a total of 114 newspapers, magazines and pamphlets of all sort, in 32 countries, kingdoms, provinces and colonies. Some of these copies laid exposed on the chairs, armchairs, tables and shelves all over the library. In this titanic task, he'd already spent over a year. Maybe he should get the portraits published again…

He was thinking precisely about that and had already decided it, when a scream pulled him back to reality. It wasn't very common to hear voices in that house anymore, except for his own orders, but that was Cresencia, he was sure.

"Cresencia! What is it?"

Coming from the living room, there were sobs and invocations of the heavens, so it had to be serious. He put away the Saturday supplement from Buenos Aires, Argentina; on the first page the two faces could be seen, a brief explanation of the matter and the promise of a reward for anyone who could give any hints on their whereabouts. He reached out for the cane and stood up.

"Cresencia, what-"

Someone opened the library's door.

Was it real? Had he gone mad at last, or senile?

"Father…"

After his son was captured and injured, hunted down, condemned and missing, don Alejandro could have bragged of not shedding a single tear; a man doesn't cry, not even at the face of the worst adversities, let alone a De la Vega. But here, that stoicism broke.

He wanted to say something: _my son, Diego_, anything, but the only thing that came out was a sound with no syllables that had been loading up in his strong, yet human spirit, for over seven years.

_Nothing more pathetic than a decrepit, old man crying_, he thought, and didn't give a damn.

With God as a witness that he wasn't fond of displays of affection, but he had to hug his son.

Then, he had a better look at him. He was more… adult, more… strong? Like someone who hasn't spent his time reading or playing the guitar anymore, but doing some physical work. His skin slightly more tanned, too.

And next, what he saw at the door made him lose balance, so much that Diego had to hold him by both arms. Don Alejandro didn't look away, though: it was Josefina and a couple of little things.

"Hello!" she just said, smiling and tearing up at once. She'd always been the same, genuine and sincere; that's what he liked about her and what ended up convincing him that Diego had made the right choice. Was all of that in this life or in another faraway one? Centuries ago, for God's sake.

With the cane in one hand and his son holding him by the other arm, he came closer to see them better. The oldest one, a six or seven years old, started at him attentively: it was a mini copy of Diego. The other one, a two year old perhaps, was in his mother's arms and seemed sleepy. It sure had been a long trip.

"Father, these are Pedro…" he went to carry the small one, who started to suck his thumb right when resting his head on his dad's shoulder: "...and Alejandro."

The boy held out his hand:

"It's a pleasure to meet you, grandfather. Did you see we have the same name?"

He had Diego's exact same face. The same intelligent and curious look in his eye. And was that a… French accent?

He shook the small hand:

"The pleasure is mine… Alejandro. That, I assure you."

(...)

In his last years, don Alejandro enjoyed the company of his grandsons, playing with them until his bones allowed him too, telling them real or made up stories and stuffing themselves with candy and sweets from Cresencia's kitchen.

As soon as he returned, Diego took charge of the De la Vega hacienda, which had declined in the last years. It didn't take long for it to become the most prosperous ranch in California again.

They learnt Monasterio had been called to Spain, something about some missing money. No one heard of him again.

Father Felipe had passed away few months before, so they went to leave some flowers on his tomb. Pepe could finally find a job, at the De la Vega _hacienda_: after the priest's death, he'd just been wandering around, since no one was hiring for indians.

They visited Sargeant García too, now simply known as don Demetrio: he'd received a dishonorable discharge for reasons unrelated to Zorro. He was working as a street sweeper. They bought 49% of the tavern for him, since don Theo was in need of a business partner. Even nowadays, the former soldier spends his time behind the bar, tasting good wines, toasting to the King and greeting everyone with a smile.

Josefina and Diego still live. They can be seen horseback riding around the lands of the _rancho _and its surroundings.

And when a crime is committed or oppression threatens to return, some people say that out of the night, when the fool moon is bright, comes a horseman who lives by honor and justice, carves a Z with his blade and is still free, to this day.

END.

Note 1: I can't believe I translated the whole thing! I still feel some things were lost in translation, but I tried!

Note 2: I didn't check if in 1928, California was still part of Spain or not, if Canada and Australia existed with those names, or what. Sorry, I'm not too historically accurate (or I'm just lazy). Also, I mentioned Buenos Aires, Argentina, because that's where Guy Williams lived in his final years. (That's just a way of saying it. He loves on, right? Like Zorro).

Note 3: this epilogue, I wanted to write it not from Josefina's point of view, like most of this story was, or Diego's, but from the outside, or someone else's perspective, like my dear don Alejandro. I wanted to leave how she and Diego felt to the reader's imagination.

Note 4: Thanks for reading! Writing and translating this story gave me such a rush. I still daydream about it and about the two main characters XD I hope I can write something out of that.


End file.
